IT 



r 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

SheM'.__..3-y' 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Pen Pictures 



Transmitted Clairaudiently and 
Telepathicaily 



BY- 



ROBERT BURNS. 



RECEIVED AND EDITED BY 



niNA S. SEYMOUR. 



WITH COMPLETE GLOSSARY, 

LJlv Dale, N. F., 1900, 
I- 



31"41 



^ 



K 



69653 



Library of ConiTre^.s 

1 wu Copies Received 
AUG 8 1900 

Ccpyriphl entry 

SECOND COPY. 
Delivered to 

ORDER DIVISION, 
5^FP 11 1900 



Entered According to the Act of Congress 
in the 3'ear 1900, by 

MINA S. SEYMOUR, 

the Office of the Librarian of Congress at 
Washington, D. C. 



CONTENTS 



To The Psychical Research Society 9 

To My True Lassie 10 

To the Readers of Pen Pictures 12 

To The Readers 16 

Thanksgiving^ Day 1'^ 

Lines On a Tablet 26 

As You Like 26 

Lady Canada To [lucle Sam 27 

A Fragment From a Letter 32 

To My Lady..... 33 

Epitaph 33 

An Explanation 34 

Rum's Appeal 35 

Epitaph To O. S. V 37 

The Lily Dale Skellum 38 

To Nellie F R : 39 

A Response 4-3 

A Mithei's Cry 45 

Soul Growth 48 

The "Woman's Club" 49 

A Monody To The Storm 52 

A Scorch 54 

. L o s h ! Hunter 55 

To Carl 57 

Birth Of Robert Burns 58 

To My Leal Frien's 59 

Mephistopheles At The Grave Of a Lawyer 61 

To Judge J. B, Fisher 64 



CONTENTS. 

Pictures From Memory's Palace 65 

A Quotation 72 

On The Death Of Senator Justin Morrill 73 

To Lily Dale 74 

To J. W. Dennis 76 

A Warning 77 

A Chat With The Fire 78 

The Peace Commissioners 80 

To Col. Robert G. Ingersoll 81 

Father Sniffle's Confession 85 

The Latest Fad 97 

To A. Gaston 98 

To Lancelot 99 

Quotation 99 

To William McKinley 100 

A Message 103 

Fashionably Dressed 104 

To D. B. Merritt 106 

To Boss Piatt 107 

To Judge Farnu m 109 

Falconer J u nc tion 110 

To Appolo Ill 

To Maurene 112 

April In Lily Dale 112 

Burn's Cottage 113 

To Col. Robert G. Ingersoll ..114 

To Robert G. Ingersoll On The Lecture At Lily Dale.115 

To J. R. Francis 117 

A Comparison 120 

To Senor Dc Lome 121 

A Scrap From a Letter 125 

Quotation : 125 

The Soliloquy Of a Mouse 126 

The Scotch Thistle 128 

To Jennie Hagan Jackson 129 

To Thankful Gaston 133 

Malabecco 136 



CONTENTS. 

. V Q 11 a t r a i n 130 

Kipling's Muse 137 

Acrostic 139 

To Senator Rawlins 140 

To Jennie Hagan Jackson 143 

Quotation From Robert Burns 144 

England's Queen 145 

Giving Thanks 156 

Quotation From Robert Burns 157 

Heigh Ho For a Husband! 158 

Thc^Fourth Of July 159 

A Thought Conception 160 

Quotation From Robert Burns 160 

To Moses Hull 161 

My Robin 162 

To Katie 166 

How Things Have Changed 167 

To Mrs. R. S. Lillie 171 

To F. G. N n ; 172 

To William McKinley 173 

To a Rejected Lover 176 

A Message To T. J.- Skidmore ..177 

Spirit Kittie To Her Father T. J. Skidmore 179 

Quotation From Robert Burns ISO 

Loves' Letter 181 

Quotation from Robert Burns 182 

To Martha and Thomas 183 

What my Lover Said 186 

Quotation from Robert Burns 187 

The Doctor's War 188 

Epistle to Dr. Lake 191 

Quotation from Robert Burns 192 

Kittie to her Mother, Marion Skidmore 193 

The Sdiool of the C. L. F. A 195 

To the Gude Mother of the Camp 196 

"The Brigs of Ayr" 198 

Birthdav Greeting- to Marion Skidmore 199 



CONTENTS. 

Quotatiou from Robert Burns 201 

Jamie's Soliloquy 202 

Memorial to Angeline Pope 204' 

Puir Auld Spain 205 

Quotation from Robert Burns 208 

To Mrs. Maria R L 209 

Scotch Pot Pourri 211 

To Frank L. Stanton 220 

The Wench's Complaint 221 

To Antonelli 224 

The Money Bag Lord 225 

Memorial to Maj. John A. Logan 229 

Three Stars 230 

Contentious People 233 

Well Behaved Englishmen 236 

Metempsj'chosis 237 

To the Critics 239 

To Mrs. H. S. Lake 241 

Aguinaldo' s Esca pe 243 

To Alexandria, Princess of Wales 244 

A Thought... 247 

To The Hon. Joseph Israel Tarte 250 

To Joseph Rodes Buchanan 252 

Lines in a Letter to Mrs. Elizabeth Buchanan 254 

To Dr. Richard Hodgson, L. L. D 25G 

To Willard J. Hull 257 

"Brave Bill" Anthony 258 

Lieutenant John Woodburn Osborne 260 

What I Heard 261 

To Gladys 265 

To A. M. Barnum 266 

To Fedora 268 

To Angolina 269 

Caldwell Park 271 

A What-is-it 272 

Quotation from Robert Burns 272 

To Arms 273 



CONTENTS. 

To Hudson Tuttle 277 

To Mattie Thompson 279 

My Murdered Cat 280 

I Am My Lady's Friend and Guide 282 

The Last Words of an Insane Friend 284 

Burns to His Ladye 286 

To a Coof. 287 

A Memorial 288 

Up to Date 289 

Cunning Greed 292 

To Samuel F. Myers 293 

Le Conseil Dc Guerre 294 

From May to Flo 296 

To a Materializing Medium 299 

To Oleida 300 

To J. W. Douglass 301 

Quotation From Robert Burns 304 

To T. W. Litchfield 305 

A Conversazione 307 

To Nannie Litchfield 311 

The Lover's Riddle 313 

To S. S. Washburn 315 

Banker Shaw 316 

To Ex-Governor Campbell 319 

To Arthur 320 

To A. B. Richmond 321 



PEN PICTURES. 



DEDICATED TO THE 



Psychical ^egeapcli Society, 



WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF 



Robert Burns. 



Alice mair I cnm afore the warl, 

A puzzle to a' mankin'; 
Nae muzzle can be pat on nie, 

This, guid frien's, j^e will fin'. 
The preachers sent me d d to Hell, 

The Deil I hypnotized; 
I stole the keys, an flew the coop, 

Nick was, (I'm sure) surprised. 

I've beat auld Death, I write as weel, 

As mon3^ in Earth life; 
I'm taking notes the same auld way, 

With fun my buke is rife. 
My satires are glove-fitting tests, 

My cues an' turns 3'e'll min'; 
Rob Burns is "in it" a' the same, 

Rob Burns, mj^ frien's, j-e'll fin'. 

Yours Truh', 
Feb. 11, 1900. Robert Burns. 



10 PEM PICTURES. 



TO MY TRUE LASSIE. 



N LETTERS of gold, 

Shall thy name be told; 
Was said at thy birth 
By prophets of old. 
Sep. 1893. Robert Burns. 

Slate writing with Maude Gillett. 

TO MY FRIEN'S. 

Spiritism is na new — nae, 

Endlessness is Nature's law; 
The occult power is supreme, 

Materialism may sneer an' caw, 
An' ca' the Muse a ghaist; 

It matters na a whit! 
'Tis but the sneer of Ignorance, 

Truth is the butt of Jest an' Wit. 

The man o' Sorrow seeks the truth, 

Grief haunts him nicht an' day; 
The luved an' lost of yesterday, 

"My luved ones — where are the3'?" 
The ootside w^arl ye set aside, 

Spiritism gies clairvoyant sicht; 
An' whan ye see, wi' your ain een, 

Ye ken then, wrang frae richt. 

Truth mak's ye bold, 3'e will affirm, 

Blessed wi' a spiritual sight; 
Through your soul's sensitiveness, 



PEN PICTURES. 11 

Ye'll follow the raid o' Kii;lil.. 
Ye'll spcik to Ihc wanderer on tlie left, 

Gie liini a helpin' lian'; 
Transition gies her pass to all, 

We meet in spirit Ian'. 

The man wha proves to be a man. 

Is then, but half a man; 
Celestial agencies with mj^stic power, 

Arrogate, subdue, and plan. 
An' whether good or whether bad. 

On us depends not, alone; 
The man made soul. Aspiration's child, 

Ma\' seek for jewels to deck his throne. 

The quintessence of spirit life — 

The unfoldment lies within; 
The affinitizing of like to like, 

With birth will sure begin. 
And with the unco birth, Destiny, 

Gies a sharp command; 
Into the whirlpool of Fate, 

Aye — are we blessed or damned? 

The Oriental Yougec, 

The Adept in Catholic m\'stery; 
Plato, Appolonius, P3'^thagorus, 

Wallace, Bruce, Dante, men of history. 
Washington, La Fa3'ette, Paine, 

Lincoln, Gladstone, the warlock Edison, a_Ye! 
Passive instruments of unseen powers, 

Frien's, ye'll understand it b^^ an' bye. 

R. R. 



12 PEN PICTURES. 



TO THE READERS OF PEN PICTURES. 



NEED nae introduction, 

Yc ken mc vera well; 
M}^ aulcl bcuk gies mv histor^v, 

Mair 1 end na tell. 
Ye all ken wccl, thc\^ ca'd ine deid, 

The kirk sent me to h 1; 

But I gied auld Nickie Ben the slip, 

I pat oil the cat a bell. 

By nature, I was Freedom's chiel, 

I cud na be shut up; 
I rather dine with a decent t\dve, 

Than, with a pompous laird to sup. 
Sac — whan I cam owre on this side, 

I fand m^'sel, the same; 
1 cud na see much difference, 

In manner, form or name. 

Just where we stop, there we begin, 

Our nature is the same; 
The jail-bird, lawyer, saunt, 

Or the man wha's crouned b\' Fame. 
We start the loom in spirit life. 

With the same kin' o' thread we spun; 
As fish to the water, 1)irds to the air — 

Sae the lines of life will run. 

The musician cums back to music. 
The artist, his kin' will fin'; 



PEN PICTURES. 13 

That's why, I maun %vrite Hke myscl, 

I maiiii follow, close to my line. 
Sac mony ask my Lady, 

"Why does he this or that?" 
I maun be true to m^- ain sel, 

Or the writin' wad fa' flat. 

Their ain queer style, has ilka ane. 

We ken them by what they say; 
Bj^ron, Sappho, Shelle3^, Burns, 

Wrote in their ain guid wa\'. 
Oar method, manner, expression. 

To those, we hand firm an' true. 
Gin we did na do this, frien's, 

We cud na convince you. 

I'm Robert Burns, that's what I am, 

Alive and real as you; 
The kirks are catch in' on, ha! ha! 

Spiritism, the3^ fin' is true. 
They're crawlin' oot o' their shells, frien's, 

The Orthodox ring is too tight; 
They are bucklin' on the armor, 

They'll join us in the fight. 

They fin' they're muckle ahint the times, 

A way-back sune they'll be; 
Oot o' the darkness into the licht. 

They'll march wi' the men that arc free. 
A hunder years has gar't a change, 

A change I'm glad to see; 
I — a martyr to Freedom's cause, 

Wi' me frien's, 3^e will 'gree. 

I've been writin' an writin', twal lang years, 

Owre a nom de plume, I wrote; 
For this an' that an' the ither, 

Mysel oft times I'd quote. 



14 PEN PICTURES. 

My thochts went oot to the pitir man, 

I gied him a ward o' cheer; 
An' aften I'd hear some caddie say, 

"That sounds like Burns, 'tis queer!" 

Richt here, frien's, ane thing I will say, 

Reincarnated — I never was! 
That, is a supposed effect, 

That never had a cause. 
The auld Hindoo, caught up that thocht. 

In the way back of aulden time; 
A.n' they've brocht it frac past ages, 

Penned in prose an' rh^'me. 

Those wha sa}^, they can remember, 

Of different lives they've lived; 
Are hypnotized into that thoclit. 

Self mesmerized an' deceived. 
The brain is stultified an' weak, 

Their equipoise, lost by the strain; 
An' Pandemonium will hand the fort. 

Disorder's confusion will reign. 

The ps3'chlc, is a reallt}-. 

It's a wean frae Nature's womb; 
An' the shuttle o' life, by Nature's dame's wound, 

Nature guards weel her loom. 
An' the wee bit ps3'chic's led on an' on. 

Thro' paths that are rough an' hard. 
Nursed in the lap of Poverty, 

Sic was the Scottish Bard. 

Losh! all psychics are na' reliable. 
They fly, afore they can flutter. 

There is where the fraud cums in. 
An' the growlin' folk mutter. 

Fraud wi' horns, hoof, swishin' tail, 
Gold, those psychics need. 



PEN PICTURES. 15 

An' the sucklings of the psychic band, 
Use Fraud to fatten Greed. 

The newspapers are fu' o' ads, 

Vampires in the pS3^chic mart; 
"Madam Hypocracy, Clairvoyant, Psychome- 
trist, Business Medium, 

Six questions answered one dollar," nae 

worth a ( ) 

Time, paper, stamp, dollar lost, grit gude! 

A fraud of the rankest type; 
Hunt this ps^-chic, an j^e'll fin' 

A hypocritical snipe. 

The chaff ye maun blaw oot frien's. 

The black sheep pat away; 
Ye maun protect Honesty, 

The greedy wolf j^e maun slay. 
Truth an' Duty bid ye stan' 

Firm as the rock o' ages; 
Martyrs in the cause o' Truth, 

Wise as 3'e aulden Sages. 

My Pen Pictures, I gie the warl, 

My satires, ye'll fin' red-het; 
Of a fae, I'm nae afraid, man. 

He'll feel my ged, ye bet. 
Here an' there 3'e'll fin' common sense, 

Truth, Charit3^ Luve an' a'; 
An' dinna forget whan ye cum our wa}^, 

To gie us ei frien'l^ ca'. 

KouERT Burns, 



1(3 PEN PICTURES. 



TO THE READERS. 



OURS truly! here am I, losli! 

I feel like saying "Gee whiz!" 
I am the rcsurreetion, yea! 
All the reincarnation there is. 
On this side a hunder years, 

Christ has not come as yet; 
Arisen, as frae the deid am I, 
I've won the gree, "you bet." 

It's a beautiful kintra owre here, 

Na hghting as wi' 3'e; 
The Jamesons, Chamberlains, Hannas, 

Frae the like o' these, we're free, 
The cut-throat gang, the murderers. 

Like those are in the church; 
Civilized Christians, Gude's haley men, 

Freedom's flag will smirch. 

The beast-like spirits from Earth-land, 

Cling to the kin' they are; 
Undeveloped, restless, disturbing. 

Peace and Rest they mar. 
Sad, unfortunate, lamentable. 

Evolution is slow but sure; 
It will take cycles and cycles of time, 

To evolute the cure. 
Tanwar 31, 1900. Robert Burns. 




W. M. LOCKWOOD. 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 



T MY window I am sitting, 

It is Thanksgiving morn; 
^'The sky is gray and heavy, 

All nature seems forlorn. 
The snow clouds, dark and dreary. 

The Sun declines to shine; 
He is sullen, ay, he is moody— 

Is not of the Benedick kin'. 

Like all his kind, unmated. 

Unbalanced he seems to be; 
Extremes play to Fancy and Pleasure, 

His freaks are not pleasant to me. 
I like him best when he's smilinsr. 

The warmth in his sunny ray, 
Gives cheerfulness new vigor; 

I'd wish him to shine every day. 

To day he is sullen and gloomy-. 

He's in a fit of the blues; 
Has some one sent him a letter, 

Filled with Misfortune's news? 
My soul is full of forebodings, 

The Horribles came in the night; 
I think I must have been dreaming, 

I woke in a terrible fright. 

It must have been a vision! 

What i.i ^ yigion? who knows? 



IS PEN PICTURES. 

As a lightning flash you sense it, 
Then — presto! ha! it goes! 

What is it gives me the warning? 
Who tells me trouble is near? 

Who shows me the letter that's coming? 
Future events I see clear. 

Am I a Zelda or Hayshow? 

Have I the gift of a Seer? 
Or — is it the work of a Geni? 

In the night voices I hear. 
Like the Sun, I am cloudy this morning, 

In a shadow I seem to be; 
Trouble pf a serious nature. 

Is coming — coming to me. 

Nature is sad and forsaken, 

She wears a sorrowful look; 
The trees, not a leaf on their branches, 

They, fiercelj^ the autumn wind shool; 
The feathery snow flakes, gently fall. 

Who sang of the beautiful snow? 
The snow that covers the dasies. 

And the pansies all in blow. 

The bells are chiming — chiming. 

The bells ring clear and loud; 
They are calhng the people together, 

The rich, the poor and the proud. 
The wife from the poor man's hovel, 

The aristocratic dames of renown. 
Thanksgiving bells ring to all classes. 

Come all ye good people in town. 

The President sent out his message, 
'Twas a sort of divine decree; 

An edict, sent to his subjects. 
To all in the land of the free. 



PEN PICTURES. 19 

He said: — "Give thanks ye people, 

For the blessing from God 3^ou receive; 

Give thanks to the great Creator, 
In whom we all believe." 

Give thanks, to Moses' man-made God, 

That the rich man has plent^^ in store; 
That his millions are stacked in gold bonds, 

That he's always grasping for more. 
Thank God that the tramps on the street, 

Are begging for crumbs from his table; 
But the rich man's servant replies, 

My master is not able. 

Thank God for the man made law, 

That puts the beggar in jail! 
Thank God he's a right to starve! 

He fears auld justice's flail. 
Thank God, he can tell his story, 

To the bitter, biting wind! 
That will listen, an' moan an' moan! 

And it's wolf-like teeth, grind! 

Thank God! that the poor w^andering waif, 

Who sings for a penuA' a song; 
Is asking herself to-day, 

"Is'nt there something wrong; 
That I should be hungry and cold. 

Out in the streets, in the storm; 
While the banker's daughters are clad. 

In velvets and furs so, warm?" 

Thank God for the vultures called men, 
Who make virtue the price of bread! 

Whose seductive and treacherous ways, 
Make women wish they w^ere dead! 

Thank God, for whisky and rum, 
For the dives and gambling dens! 



20 PEN PICTURES. 

Give thanks for the wisdom of things, 
Give thanks •— give thanks, ye men! 

Give thanks, to Christ the Savior, 

That water He turned into wine! 
Give thanks, to God and Moses! 

They worshipped war's bloody shrine! 
Give thanks for kings, give thanks for queens, 

They steal the poor man's gold; 
Give thanks for death and taxes. 

By Nature and Law you are sold. 

Give thanks for the Holy Bible, 

Written by Fiction's men; 
Thanks for the Zend Avesta, 

Which-it-to- which, ye ken. 
Give thanks for the Koran an Vedas, 

The Talmud — please take your rather, — 
And when you have simmered them down, 

Please tell me who's the Great Father. 

Give thanks for the holy preacher. 

Give thanks! give thanks! give thanks! 
Religion must have a wise teacher, 

Give thanks! give thanks! give thanks! 
Like a slave, 3'ou work while he's reading, 

Give thanks! give thanks! give thanks! 
His children and wife you are feeding, 

For favors like this, oh! give thanks! 

On Sunday he gives you a fable. 

Give thanks! give thanks! give thanks! 
He'll tell you about Christ in the stable. 

Give thanks! give thanks! give thanks! 
He's paid for doing your thinking. 

Give thanks! give thanks! give thanks! 
While you are sleeping and blinking. 

He tells you of Moses' queer pranks. 



PEN PICTURES. 21 

Give thankvS for the Godly confessional, 
Chime ye O Bells! give thanks! 

The priests ye ken are professional, 
Kling-a-lang-ling, give thanks. 

Give thanks, the priests are all honest, 
Ring the glad tidings, give thanks! 

But watch well your daughters sac modest- 
God bless the auld priests and the monks. 

They'll seduce your daughters and wives, 

They are sly as a pawky auld fox; 
Sae cunningly the priests contrives, 

A lure to the confessional box. 
Immaculate is the conception, 

Give thanks, give thanks for that; 
The priest always gives them protection, 

The husband does father the brat. 

Give thanks, O ye holy mothers, 

That God left you out in the cold! 
Give thanks, give thanks to the Creator, 

That into bondage women were sold. 
Polygamy is a law in the Bible, 

Gives thanks, give thanks for that; 
To the God inspired Bible, 

Give thanks that the Earth is flat. 

Give thanks, oh! ye women of learning, 

That you are the equal of man; 
Go back to the world's beginning, 

You'll find it so fixed in God's plan. 
Be thankful, be thankful, mothers! 

That you own the child at your breast, 
Sleep well, your beautiful darlings. 

The Law from you cannot wrest. 

Thank God for a Westchester Home! 

For that brutal James Pierce, thank God! 



22 PEN PICTURES. 

Thank God for Elmira's Home of Reform! 

Chime ye O bells, thank God! 
Thank God for a Brockway! thank God! 

(He'd pat the deil to shame.) 
Thank God for a gove'nor, an' the men wha rule, 

New York mann be proud o' her name. 

Thank God! oh! ye wee braw bairns, 

In a bed o' pollution conceived! 
Thank God! you're an unwelcome wean. 

In that ye are not deceived. 
Thank God! that into Hell's pit. 



Ye are dragged bj^ auld justice's paw 



Thank God! thank God! in the sweet by and bye, 
Ye'll rest in the graff's dark maw. 

Gie thanks for the Buhs an' th' Bears, 

Wha rair an' scratch an' claw; 
Mak' gowd an' siller hard to get, 

Sic' times nane ever saw. 
Gie thanks for the trusts an' monopoHes, 

The mone3'-bag laird an' a'; 
The Standard Oil wi' its crushin' mill. 

Grit Gude! cover wi' a pall! 

Give thanks to God for the cholera. 

Twill cramp you they say into fits; 
Thank God! it will puzzle the doctors, 

Ayont the extent o' their wits. 
Thank God; by this plague ye'll expire; 

Resign gracefully to its sweet will; 
Called by the will of Providence. 

God's right it is to kill. 

Give thanks for the glorious stmshine. 
That's hid neath the cloud this morn, 

Give thanks for the blight to the wheat crop, 
Give thanks that the frost killed the corn, 



PEN i^IC^TURES. 2S 

The bugs have eaten the potatoes, 

The drouth came to burn up the grass; 

Give thanks for all these great favors, 
Rejoice, and chant ye high mass! 

The earthquake has swallowed a city, 

Thousands of people are dead; 
And those w^ho escaped from the ruin. 

Are hungry and begging for bread. 
Homeless, sad, and forsaken, 

A mother with a child at her breast; 
Raises her face to Heaven, 

And asks for a place to rest. 

The God of the storm is angry. 

Tragedy rides on the sea; 
The lightnings flash in the heavens, 

The thunder-cloud frightens me. 
The winds are howling and screeching, 

Like demons in frenzied glee; 
The sky is black as midnight, 

Na licht frae a star can I see. 

Hark! 'tis the crashing of timbers! 

Two vessels have met on the sea; 
"Ye Gudes!" cries the captain "we're dune for! 

*Tis a watery graff for me." 
This is Thanksgiving morning. 

The dawn wall soon appear; 
The sea has swallowed its victims, 

Who can tell when Death hovers near? 

Now I am out on the prairie, 

Out in the far, far w^est; 
The place wdiere poor people migrate, 

This is the land of the blest. 
But the God of the storm has followed, 

Mercy was never his name; 



24 PEN PICTURES. 

Out here, they call him the blizzard, 
By death, he wins his fame. 

Now I go South for a moment. 

A vision, this surely must be; 
A plague, ye gods! I have struck it! 

Dead bodies by hundreds I see. 
The brains of live men are maddened, 

Their wives and children are dead; 
Hungry, homeless, and forsaken. 

Turned out in the woods without bread. 

Once more I go out on my travels, 

(Man's God rules the land and the sea.) 
This time, 'tis a railroad disaster! 

Pray tell me why was this to be? 
Mothers and children mangled, 

I hear them shriek and groan! 
See the flames leap high — and higher! 

Can God see this from his throne? 

The God who is all power, — 

The God who made Earth and sea; — 
He who noteth the fall of the sparrow, 

Is there such a God? can it be? 
If so, why this chaotic condition? 

Why not rule with a loving hand? 
Why not make Earth a Heaven? 

Why is it? I can't understand. 

All this, I saw with my field-glass. 

As out of my window I gazed; 
And the sights that met my vision, 

Filled me with fright, — I am dazed! 
My brain is dizzy with seeing, 

Dante's hell, met my view! 
My rose-colored glasses — I've lost them! 

Nocht can I see that's nae blue. 



PEN PiCTuiRES. 25 

And now, I am back in my chamber, 

The postman has rapped at my door; 
A letter! I know well the writing, 

Is there joy or trouble in store? 
I liavc broken the seal, am reading-, 

My God! tis mj^ boy, my loved child! 
Sick, yea sick! may be dying, 

I can bear no more! oh! I'm wild! 

Far — far away among strangers. 

He'll miss a mother's caress; 
If I were a bird I'd fly to him, 

My lips to his I would press! 
Ah! — no! I am bound, I am fettered! 

By conditions I cannot break! 
Oh! that I were the Almighty, 

Just for humanity's sake! 

Oh! I am lost!— I've forgotten, 

I've been wandering here and there; 
To the North and South and mid ocean. 

I've had a glimpse of most evcr\'where. 
My brain is throbbing wildly. 

My soul is crushed with this blow; 
My boy is sick, may be dying. 

He is wishing for mother I know. 

O yes! let me think— I am lost again — 

This is Thanksgiving daj^; 
But what have I to give thanks for? 

Nothing! I'm sure you will say. 
The scenes of life that I've witnessed. 

Contain no blessings I'm sure, 
I'll wipe the tears that are falling. 

An' harden my soul to endure. 
But nae thanks will I send the Almighty, 

For it's suffering I have received; 



^6 PEN PICTURES. 

Ah! no! there's no cause for thanksgiving, 
In this I am not deceived. 



LINES ON A TABLET, 

Received at Campbell's Seance. 



My trusty friend, i come tonight, 

To let you know I'm near you; 
And tho' I am not here in flesh. 

My spirit ears can hear you. 
For life you know ends not in death. 

And you from me will hear more; 
For still I come, and men through you, 

Shall still both hear, and See More. 

R. 



AS YOU LIKE. 



Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. 

Be true to me, and I'll be true to thee; 
Gif frae your luve ^-e'd nac hae me wander. 

Be true to me an' I'll be true to ye. 
Gin ye gae strayin' for a goddess' luve, 

Thro' the law, suggestion, I may rove; 
Amid ambrosial bowers with some fair god. 

Fate will say to ye: — "Pass under my rod." 
Sauce for the goose, is sauce for the gander, 

Be true to me, and I'll be true to thee; 
Gin frae your luve, ye'd nac hae me wander, 

Be true to me and I'll be true to ye. 



PEN PICTURES. 2? 



LADY CANADA TO UNCLE SAM. 



"If the Venezuela trouble Ijetween England, and the 
United States, termmates in war, Canada will then unite 
with Uncle Sam." 

U. S. Senator, 1895 
E need na kneel to nie dear sir, 

I care na boo yc feel; 
Your luve is noclit to mc, auld man, 

Y^e need na to me kneel. 
Stand on your legs an' be a man. 

Turn your best lug to me, 
There's muckle for ye to bear man. 
There's muckle for ye to see. 

Britannia rules the sea, man, 

An' 3^e can rule your roost; 
Ye better drap it clown a bit^ 

Ask na' the Queen to boost. 
Grit Gude! ye'vc tint your pride, man. 

Beggin roun' the warl. 
Your foreign britliers think ye daft, 

A fashous auld carl. 

Ye'rc gaun too fast, muckle too fast, 

Ye better pat on the brak'; 
Gif, this unchancy gait, ye take, 

A blunder, man, ye'll mak'. 
You point your finger at oor Queen 

The taxes wc hac to raise; 



28 PEN PiCtURES. 

She borrows nae sae muckle as ye, 
The Deil ye wad amaze. 

Yc are matirnin' for your dochters, 

That hae crossed the dark blue sea; 
Ye're maurnin' for the braw lassies, 

Ye swear ye'll nae forgie. 
Britania's hunters bag the game, 

They feather their ain nest; 
Ye swat aroun', ye're near gaen wud, 

Ye ken, they'll be weel dressed. * 

Britannia's sons ain titles, man. 

Royalty gies them a name; 
The laird, the sir, the duke, the prince, 

This means blae-bluid an' fame. 
They may hae sprung frae thieves an' knaves, 

Licentious rakes an' a; 
The sheeny titles, co'ers the mirk. 

Whan on your weans they ca'. 

Sax millions buys a count or duke, 

Thretty-thousand a plackless prince; 
A muckle less sum an earl or sir, 

Losh! Sam, I see ye wince. 
Britannia's sons scent weel the game, 

The fever ye hae caught; 
Ye needna cross the falls for me. 

Your trip wad be for nocht. 

I'm noo weel shot o' ye auld man, 

Abeigh I'll surely keep; 
There is nae room for twa ye ken, 

In your nest ]'ll na sleep. 
Your hoose is full o' thieving ghaists, 

Whigmigmorum — I'm tired o' that; 

* Plucked. 



PEN PICTURES. 29 

Lo'e ye iieedna mak' to me, nae! 
Luve is Misfortune's brat. 

A tocher, with me ye'll nae get, man, 

Ye're noted for greed an' gall; 
Auld Scotland's laddies are my ain kin', 

Oor kintra isna sma'. 
The laddies watch me weel, auld man. 

An' this is what thej^ say; 
Ye've a pack of skellums in 3'our Ian', 

The Deil's ain tricks they play. 

Tapsalteerie is your business, 

Heels-o'er-gowdy, that I see; 
Your bureaus need a cleaning oot, 

There's roun' them skyrin' mair than thee. 
Ye'll fin' rats an' mice a priggin roon, 

An' pole-cats here and there; 
A sort o' menagarie, ye hae, 

Wi' your noted "Bull an' Bear." 

Sauce for goose, is sauce, for gander. 

Britannia has gien ye the cue; 
This spendin' mair than 3'e can earn. 

Is a disgrace to her an' you. 
The splendor at the capitols, 

The expense o' thae twa nations; 
Means taxes to the puir man, 

Tae the weans, starvation's rations. 

The mighty Queen Britannia, 

Her coronet is gold; 
Her jeweled scepter rules the Ian', 

'J'he story's vera old. 
Ireland in bondage! — 

Japan! — "A pirate sure is she;" 
China, Turkey, Egypt, India, 

Wi' Japan ye maun agree. 



30 PEN PICTURES. 

Auld England's wing spreads o'er my Ian', 

She's mither, I'm the wean: 
To mither's apron string I'm tied, 

To all that's plainl3^ seen. 
But, gin I brak' the binding tie,-. 

Freedom will suit me weel; 
I'll represent the "New Woman," 

Be Queen o' my ain shiel. 

I've been watching weel 3^our kintra. 

Dry-rot has struck the heid; 
Ay — your doctor is a way-back, 

He caused her to be bled. 
Sam, bleeding seems to be your game. 

Her veins are nearly dry; 
Ye better stap that business, man. 

Gin 3^e wadna hae her die. 

Your pension bureau — grit gude! Sam. 

The South has reason to howl; 
Your iieebors arc making fjices. 

An' the foreign folk do scowl. 
The like of it was never seen, 

Damnation the rottenness covers; 
Across Niagara comes the stench, 

Attled eggs the eagle hovers. 

Gin the South was North, an' the North was South, 

I'd open wide my door; 
I'd lend the Lady South my broom. 

To sweep the Senate floor. 
I'd sen' across Niagara, 

A bar of soap, — a pail, 
I'd gic that lousy bird * a bath, 

I'd scrub it frae heid to 'tail. 



Eagle. 



PEN PICTURES. 31 

The goddess lungs her Iieid \vi' shame, 

Whan she reads the mornin' news; 
The erimes against criminals, 

'Twad gie the Deil the bines. 
Frae Georgia cums the black-black tale, 

Frae Elniira cums the same; 
Losh! yours the Ian' o' Freedom? 

''Gude bless our bame.'" 

I'd visit congress with a ged, 

I'd pat my fit on bills; 
I'd gie that Hoose o' Congress, 

A muckle dose of pills. 
An' then a Strang emetic, 

I'd clean that hoose for once, 
An' gin I did na do it weel, 
Ye micht ca' me a dunce. 

The Cabinet! trowth! what wad I do? 

To the inevitable they kneel; 
The last admenistration, 

Wanchancee was its deal. 
A financial hell they left ahint, 

Waur they cud na hae dune; 
The wise folk o' the wast an' south, 

Are lading Polly Ticks' gun. 

I've had mv weather ce weel oot, 

I am nae blin', ye '11 see; 
I'll butter my ain toast, Sam, 

I ken what's guid for me. 
Ye better mend your breeks, Sam, 

An pit new packets in; 
The wa\^ ye plant your gold, Sam, 

I think it is a sin. 

I winna burn my fingers, Sam, 
By bucklin' oop wi' ye; 



32 PEN PICTURES. 

I'll keep shot o' that business, 

Ye'll nae be foolin' me. 
Marriage is oot o' fashion, Sam, 

I'll tak' courtin', flirtin' an' a', 
In your sta' I'll nae be tied, 
I'll nae min' your beck an' ca'. 

Nov. 1896. 

To the Hon Wilfred Laurier, Leader of the Canadian 
Liberals. 

Roberts Burns. 



A FRAGMENT FROM A LETTER. 



Oh Lad\^ fair! I can but smile. 

You are Emotion's child; 
Were I to 3'ield the power to thee, 

A mad cap j^e'd rin wiUl. 
I fear ye wad turn Yivean, 

Like Merlin I'd be sold; 
Losh! Lad3'e, the story is na new, 

I'll profit 1d3^ the fools of old. 

A woman's witching smile goes far. 

Her eyes of luve ye ken, 
Are charms that blind the best of us, 

And make fools of wise men. 
Somehow, our fort, we maun hand. 

So I'll na confess the charm; 
I fear ye'd twist the necks of some, 

My secret wad bring ye harm. 



PEN PICTURES. 33 



TO MY LADY. 



To Keeler's gae, i' the mornin', 

Yotir request I quick will grant; 
The evidence asked for, 

Ye never mair will want. 
A message on the slates ye'll get, 

Scotch rhymes Rob Burns will gie; 
A wee bit braw, luve letter, 

Lady, ye'll get frae me. 

Min' na the elishmaclaver. 

Or the doubting skeptic, nae; 
I'll tak' ye to dear auld Scotland, 

To my kintra ye will gae. 
We'll leave the sullen dames ahint. 

They'll dit their mouths, they will; 
I'll sen' their way a lyddite shell, 

The hizzies will get their fill. 



EPITAPH. 

To ex-Judgc H — n. 



Here lies a Christian disciple, 
The sexton planted him deep; 
He's few maurners' niang the people 
I wot he's down to keep. 



34 PEN PICTURES. 



AN EXPLANATION. 



'Tis mair than twenty years ago, 

I fand my Lady fair; 
Posited in the hoose o' Trouble, 

Burdened with grief an' care, 
I was travehng 'roun' the Kintra, 

Wi' Will Carleton, an' his Golden Calf, 
We stopped at the hoose o' Seymour, 

My Leddy was the better half. 



Seymour — See More, I did see more. 

Spirits can catch the cue; 
I stole my Lady, fair an' square. 

All's fair in luve, 'tis true. 
Spirits can hypnotize the brain, 

Ye'll niin' their beck an' ca'; 
Afore sax months had passed, friends, 

I had lassie, wean an' a'. 

Alake! alake! hie mettled, yea! 

She tried to fly my trap; 
She stormed the castle mony times, 

I got a pointed slap. 
Scotch, she didna like ava, 

Plain English suits her well; 
She wished me back in the het place, 

Whare a' such skellums dwell. 

An episode in hie life, this, 

'Tis all the fashion, ye 'ken; 



PEN PICTURES. 35 

I fell iu lo'e with the laddie's wife, 
It's a common event, my frien'. 

Ye gudes! I hae to watch her weel. 
She's in the mart, ye see; 

Twa-three an' mair hae failed, 3-e ken. 
All on account o' me. 

Rob Burns. 



RUM'S APPEAL. 



;^OME, all ye voters in the land. 
True of heart and firm of hand; 
Once more I call on all, to stand 
For Rum; join ye in one strong band, 
And vote for me, vote for me. 

Come, all ye gay, and rich, and proud, 
I dig the grave, I make the shroud,— 
Come old and young, and lame and blind, 
Demented though 3-0U are in mind. 
Just come and vote for me. 

Rum and license, 3^011 will see, 
Go hand in hand with liberty; 
In senate halls you'll hear my name, 
Through Uncle Sam we gained our fame. 
So come and vote for me. 

I sit upon the hotel bar, 
You'll find me there from da^' to da^^: 
I'm the enticer of the young, 
I coax them in with watty tongue; 
Come vote for me, I pray. 



36 PEN PICTURES. 

The Rum-fiend calls for votes again, 
Just walk up, fathers, like good men; 
Just vote for license, and you'll sec. 
Your boys as drunk as they can be, 
If you will vote for me. 

Well filled my pockets long have been, 
To empty them would be a sin; 
The gold that jingles on the bar, 
Will down my pockets slip so far. 
If you will vote for me. 

I never see a mother's tears! 
I never feel a sister's fears! 
I care not for the wife's pale face! 
I care not for the son's disgrace! 
So, fathers, vote for me. 

A Bacchanalian feast old Rum 
Will give, if you again will come 
And vote for me; the dive and den, 
I'll furnish them with royal men, 
If 3^ou will vote for me. 

I'll strip your boys of all their gold, 
Their souls to Bacchus shall be sold; 
And when they're drunk as drunk can be, 
I'll send them home, and you can see, 
'Twas good to vote for me. 

I'll spill upon the streets strong rum, 
And when they smell it, they will come; 
As rats do fall into a trap, 
**And all that, and all that," 
If 3'ou will vote for me. 

The bravest boys I'll gather in. 
To me 'twill be no crime or sin; 



PEN PICTURES. 87 

The fair-liaircd lads, with eyes of blue, 
The bright, brave lads to you so true. 
If you will vote for me. 

Then, when I've crazed their brains with Rum, 
M\^ work will not be then half done; 
I'll make them lie, I'll make them steal. 
Dishonestly with friends vshall deal. 
If you will vote for me. 

I'll fdl their mouths with curses hot, 
I'll make them slaves, I care not 
Though they see the vilest thing; 
Snakes, beasts before their eyes I'll bring, 
If you will vote for me. 

And when the brain is maddened thus. 
And flames of Rum are burning hot; 
I'll make them murder their best friend. 
Ha! ha! oh, this shall be their lot! 
If you will vote for me. 

The law will punish for the crime. 
To me 'twill be a scene sublime; 
I'll hang them to the halter's end. 
To Hell's celestial home I'll send 

Your fathers, brothers, sons, 

If vou will vote for me. 



EPITAPH. 

To O. S. V. 

Trowtli! oot o' naething, God make man, 

Ye're a fine example; 
Disgusted he was wi' the plan. 

Here lies a touzie sample. 



38 PEN PICTURES. 



THE LILY DALE SKELLUM. 



Prominently prominent, 

Conspicuously conspicuous, 
Cunninglj^ cunning. 
Sae vera smart ye think your sel', 
Hoo smart the Deil cud hardly tell; 
In 1895 I see. 
The biggest gun o' a', thocht ye. 



ATHERED ye oop, Wheeler's scandals, 
Filed in line with all the vandals; 
To the P— T— , this symposium sent. 
To help the run-deils, your intent. 

Your clishmaclaver was loud and Strang, 
Aboot frauds, and ilka thing sae wrang; 

Presto! change! Wheeler turned on you. 

Inside oot ye went, 'tis true. 

Like a bleezing bull, ye bellowed too quick. 
The tables turned, (a psychic trick); « 

An' ye with the frauds were weel pat in, 
The slush o' ( ) she thocht a sin. 

Madam Wheeler — nerve had she, 
Her cat-o-nine-tail, played roun' ye; 

Losh! wi' the frauds, ye were pat in, 
Black as the Deil an' fu' o' sin. 



PEN PICTURES. 39 

All simmer lang ye've nosed about, 

A grunter, with a lang snout; 

Into ithers business, ye poked your nose, 
As swine of the camp ye seem to pose. 

Do Immorality's maggots your pen infest? 
I wonner gif Morality is in your nest! 

Ye dinna mind the ring of the bell. 

What of the story? maun I tell? 

Aboot the husband across the sea, 
That wasna deid, but sure did lee; 

Where was the fraud? whagar't the plan? 

Was it a woman, or was it a man? 

O, man! that fraud was the warst o' all. 
In California the bull did bawl; 

What of ''your character!" have ye forgot? 

I sen' ye this a for-get-me-not. 

October, 1899. 



TO NELL F R. 



5^ H! Nellie wi' the dark-brown cen. 
Fie! Nell ye didna dream 1 ween; 
That sae hard a task ye'd gat, 
That ye fished for eels, an' that; 

Hech! they wiggle in your pan. 

Figure it the best ye can. 

Your sweet influence, yc did think, 
Wad save man frac Ruin's brink; 
Whan he was druckcn, ye wad gac, 
Bauldly face the public sac; 



40 PEN PICTURES. 

Shame-faced ye ne'er seemed to be, 
Modesty was nae part o' ye. 

Ye didna care what ithers said, 
Ah! 'twas plain ye were ill-bred; 
Laigh down, in the seale of life. 
She wha craves the drucken strife, 
An' to Ruin does play the wife, 
Her days with pleasure arena rife. 

Ye hae reached the hie oop goal. 
An' tint your name, aye tint your saul; 
Noo sip the sweets o' Rum's fell caup. 
Bid your frien's cum in an' sup; 
That they may see the ither side, 
O' the hame whare ye play bride. 

Ila! the Dcil does laugli at yc. 

Sic queer sichts he aft docs see; 

But his heart isna sac hard. 

That he wadna aften guard 

Ye, frac Rum's curse, that cums sac aft, 

He wad pat ye wi' han saft, 

Losh! he thinks Tom Noddy's fool, 
Maun sing sangs o' saddest dool; 
Luvin' angels frae above. 
Cum to ye wi' wards o' luvc. 
Pity weeps whan ye dae weep, 
An' they guard ye while ye sleep. 

Mercy to her breast wad clasp, — 
Save ye frae the wards that rasp; 
Ah! 'twas all unkenn'd to ye. 
Ye were blin', ye covi'dna see; 
Aye, ye said ye wad convert, 
The manhood spark that was inert. 



PEN PICTURES. 41 

Passion fed the flame awhile, 
He did catch ye with his wile; 
Alony Nell, have felt that power; 
Spent with him a pleasant hour; 
Under that magnetic spell, 
Thinkin' a' was richt an' well. 

Ye a victim fell at last, 
In the mesh caught sac fast; 
Clankin' chains are on th^^ han's. 
On your lim's are airn ban's; 
Ba' an chain ye drag alang, 
But in that, there isna wrang. 

In the yoke ye pat your neck, 

Afttimes noo your heid ye geek; 

Whan auld rum's fell ged ye feel, 

But I say 'tis weel — 'tis week 

Gin your fingers 3^e did burn, 

By experience ye did learn. 

What ithers learned lang years ago. 

By your smartness ye sail know, 

Mair than ye did ken afore, 

Tho' it wreck your heart sac sore. 

Yea! a sad lesson ye maun learn. 
Fate's gien ye a breezy turn; 
Ye did say, gin he'd a hame. 
That was worths o' the name. 
He wad stay within the nest. 
In his hame at nieht and rest. 
But — Ah! Nellie, fair an' meik, 
He does leave ye a' the week; 
To feed the hens and milk the kye, 
While he is aff upon a "sly." 

Oh! sweet Nell, ye noo dae see. 
What ithers prophesied for ye; 



42 PEN PICTURES. 

Ah! then ye wadiia them believe, 
Hypnotism did ye deceive. 
Ye did think 'twas luve ye saw, 
But sae weel, sae weel I knaw, 
'Twas the Deil ahint the scene, 
Horns, hoofs, swishing tail, I ween, 
Tall — lank — lean, haughty in niein, 
Rum's black ghaist ye noo hae seen. 

Oh! your pride will hand ye firm, 
Tho' the fires o' hell do burn; 
For in spite o' friens ye went, 
May the gudes sen' ye content. 
Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, 
Wi' saut tears trickling down your nose. 
The play is noo past all remeade, 
Fate bids ye stick 'till ye are deid. 
Like Maggie Lauder ye're kenned well, 
I smile to think o't, puir daft Nell. 

A sonsie lad ye left ahint, 

But your loss he didna mint; 

In the pit ye pat your feet. 

Your ain dear sel' fair Nell ye beat. 

Ye hae fand his temper hot, 

Aft ye burn in his het pot, 

But ye're welcoiue to your fun, 

Minnie Rifle is the gun; 

Minnie Rifle hits the mark, 

Deil, man, quean, bum-clock, lark. 

Listen Nell, I'll tell ye mair, 
Tho' your heart be sad and sair; 
He a slave for wark did need. 
Ye will earn your claes an' feed. 
Slave yc arc, an' slave ye'll be, 
'Till by death yc are set free; 



PEN PICTURES. 43 

Worn and faded, afttimes blue, 

This is what fate's gien to you. 

I canna maunna, winna say, 

That for your weal I ever pra3^ 

Kin' pity says ye're mesmerized, 

And possibly affinitized. 

For a' tilings find a level true, 

The law, sweet Nell, applies to you; 

A kintra lassie sold for life, 

A drudge, slave, which — quean or wife? 



A RESPONSE. 

CHI EL'S amang ye takin' notes, 

Frien's, I heard your welcom' ca'; 
Aboon the eluds I wasna, 
I listened to the wards o' a'. 

A poem frae Robert Burns ye asked, 
In The Sunflower it maun gae; 

Aye, that is the winged messenger, 
That will reaeh ye miles away. 

Miles away, miles away — frien's, 

Mony hunder miles 'twill gae; 
Ayont the sea to Scotland, 

Through mony a hamlet stray. 
Owre the burnie, cross the brae, 

The laddies are waitin' for thee; 
Messenger of the gowden sinn, 

Will ye bear Luve's message for me? 

In the lowlan', thro' the hielan', 
O SunBower! my message bear; 

I still luve dear auld Scotland, 
Her troubles I'll ever share. 

The thrissle an' the shamrock, 



44 PEN PICTURES. 

A trinity with the rose; 
But the rose is queen of a' the Ian', 
As ilka Scotchman knows. 

But — a man's a man for a' that, 

Whan the Queen's deid that ye'U see; 
What's richt for the Prince o' Wales today. 

Was wrang ye ken for me. 
With a cat - o -nine, me, they scotched, — 

Murdered by the gossip's tongue; 
Crushed 'neath the critic's juggernaut, 

Wi' grief my saul was wrung. 

Stung to the quick — I, a sensitive, 
A psychic, as ye call it now; 

1 was scorched in the fires of Destinj^, 
It was to be, I trow. 

Gude! cremated in Freedom's name, 

I wrote with a pen of fire. 
Inspiration cam' to me, 

Frae the grit celestial choir. 

1 am warkin' noo for Libert^^, 

My wark will never end; 
I bear the torch Progression, 

Luve's message I aften send. 
Atwecn the warlds of here an' there, 

Luve messengers are we; 
Sappho, Byron, Shelley, 

The poet's trinity. 

Ye'll ken us, aye, some day frien's, 
Ye'll view us in the licht o' truth; 

With pleasure, my rhymes will be read, 
By auld age and fair haired youtli. 

We hae na time to squander, 
On those wha winna 'ken; 




PEN PICTURES. 45 

Thegitlier wc wark harmoniously, 
For better conditions of men. 

Yea — man an' woman, side by side, 

Equal richts, our motto for a; 
Oot o' the mirk of ignorance, 

The bonnie bairns we ca'. 
The wee bit wean, nae wanted he. 

Conceived in hell, I ween; 
Nursed at the breast of Discontent, 

This is aften seen. 

The laws of generation, 

O study them with care; 
An' drap the seeds of Wisdom, 

In soil whare they will bear. 
Tear oop the weeds an' till the grun', 

In the garden of the saul; 
Wearing Luve's flowers of harmony, 

Ye'U reach the sheeny goal. 

October, 1899. 



A MITHER'S CRY. 



H Jamie dear! Oh Jamie dear! 
Tae Scotland I maun gac; 
I'm i' this kintra noo too lang, 
"The Ian' o' th' free," they say. 
1 liae been readin' Jamie dear, 
Aboot Daniel Long, ye ken, 
That puir dear wean, in that bad place 
Gudc! an nae ae frien'. 



46 PEN PICTURES. 

Grabbit i' the clutch o' justice paw, 
Condemned to that damned Hell; 
Sae sma' sae vera sma' the crime, 
It niak's me greet tae tell. 
Na doot the stars an' stripes do wave, 
Frae its sheeny towering dome. 
An' the eagle skreighing "Liberty! 
This is the bad wean's home." 

A hellish bastile, sure it is, 
Our wee braw bairns to catch; 
Oh Jamie, sell the biggin, quick! 
I'd keep them frae Law's snatch. 
A birkie, is our sonsie Ted, 
Na tellen' what he downa dae; 
Tae Scotland, dear auld Scotland, 
Tae her highlands I would gae. 

M^^ wee bit Robin, 'cross the sea, 
Named after Burns, ye ken; 
He's sleepin' 'neath the gowan, 

Jamie! I maurned him then. 

He's there sae cauld an' stiff an' deid, 
I'll never maurn him mnir; 
He's better aff 'neath that green graff. 
Than in that Brockway's care. 

I'm near stark mad, a thinkin' o't, 
Oh! my wee braw bairn ies three; 
Let na time be tint, Jamie, 

1 lang for the bricht blue sea. 

I'm sick for liame, the dear old hame, 
I lang for the braes an' burns; 
Gie me a wee bit theekit shiel, 

Where dear Tay wimplin' rins. 

The cluds hing laigh, an' mirk, Jamie, 
Aboon the this kintra, yea; 



PEN PICTURES. 47 

An' bluid will rin some clay, Jamie, 
It's nae use to Gude to pra3^ 
Whan fients like Brockway sit in state. 
An' reign like onj^ king, 
Aye, a' he has to say is: "Keeper, 
Tae me the victim bring." 

Why canna a' th' braid warl see, 
Crazed is that vile man's brain? 
Hoo lang, O Gude! hoo lang! 
Maun the bairnes skreigh wi' pain? 
What are those doctors a' aboot? 
Does gold plaster oop their mou'? 
Docs siller buy their silence? 
O Gude! tis sae, I trow! 

Are we gaun back to the "Ages Dark?" 
Sure, we hae the "Book o' Doom's Day?" 
O Goddess o' Liberty, hear me! 
My Ladye, what hae \'e to sa}-? 
In this proud Ian' the "Inquisition," 
It takes me back to Spain; 
To Torquemada, an' his dcvlish imps, 
Losh! terror, ance mair does reign! 

Whare are the lairds, wha rule the Ian',— 
This wondrous Empire State? 
The representatives and senators, 
Wha some folk proudly prate? 
Shame on sic' men as these! oh! shame! 
O Mithers! rise in j^our micht! 
Let man never say again, , 

A woman canna fight. 

Thunder your slogan in Senate Halls, 
Pu' aff the Law's black veil; 
Let them see your bleeding hearts. 
An' hear the puir weans wail. 



48 PEN PICTURES. 

Tak' the cursed "Red Tape," 
An' hing sic traitors, hing! 
Traitors to Honor! traitors to justice! 
Ye maun them to justice bring. 

Whare is reform? oh! whare is reform? 
Whan a wean ye pund black an' blue; 
Wha are reformers? wha are reformers? 
Grit Gude! I noo ask you? 
Barton, come back, nae to Turkey gae, 
'J^ie Sultan will slyly tell ye, 
There's plenty o' business for the "Red Cross.', 
Whare ye cam' frae 'cross the sea. 

Leuk at the "Missions," the Christian Missions! 
Warken for the heathen Chinee, 
An here in a civilized Christian Ian' 
What do the heathen see? 
Oh for a Paine, Oh for a Burns! 
To write wi' a pen o' fire, 
Oh for grand guid honest men. 
This my soul's desire. 

Dedicated to Brockway, Elniira Reformatory. 1896. 



SOUL GROWTH. 



The saul maun graw, 'tis Nature's law. 

Slaw but sure, sure tho' slaw; 
As leaves unfold upo' the tree. — 

Frae tiny buds the rose will blaw, 
In harmony with Nature's subtle law, 

Ye ken, saul blends with saul; 
Unfoldmcnt gies us spiritual sicht. 

Oh, blessed gift! we've reached the goal! 




SUSAN B. ANTHONY. 



PEN PICTURES. 49 



THE "WOMAN'S CLUB." 

A Response. 



HE "Woman's Club," the "woman's Clubl" 

I "caught the drift," losh! man; 
The "Woman's Club," the "Woman's Club," 

I think it a very wise plan. 
It's a change frac the days o' the Mayflower, 

The duckin' stool cam' i' that; 
Hech! the men, the men o' th' auklen time, 

Their auld time tricks they've quat. 



Wae man! wae man! the "Woman's Club!" 

We weel ken hoo tae use it; 
But gin ye do what's richt man, 

That "Club," we'll nae abuse it. 
Says Dame Protection, guard it weel, 

An' ever keep it handy; 
Sac, gin ye men advantage tak' 

Frac yc, we'll tak' nae shindy. 

Noo an' then, we gain a point. 

It's a hitch an' a halt ye ken; 
It's hard to gie oop your auld ways. 

Selfishness hands fast to men. 
A woman maun ken sax times mairn a man, 

To be ca'd as smart as he; 
Oh! we've donned oor' fightin' armor, 

An' we'll "git thar," ye will see, 



50 PEN PICTURES. 

The "Woman's Club," the "Woman's Club!' 

The brainy women o' the town; 
Sex isn't in it noo clays, nae, 

We carena gin ye frown. 
The "Woman's Club," the "Woman's Club!' 

We'll study with a riclit guid will; 
Ha! ha! ha! we'll sune be read3^ 

The Senate chairs we'll fill. 

Whan thase auld fossil senators dee, 

That skip and snore a' da}^; 
We'll sen' a woman frae the "CUdj," 

She'll earn the dollar ye pny. 
She'll be nae limpin' grizzled grannie. 

Eighty years an' mair; 
But a live woman of forty, 

The honors she will share. 

She winna buy that senate chair, 

With gowd an' siller', nae; 
With wits an' brain she'll win the grce, 

Tak' her part i' the fray. 
Sac bide a wee, just bide a wee. 

We'll meet ye in convention, 
We'll gie a bite frae your ain bridle, 

This is our intention. 

It's oot o' date to marry, sir. 

We're buckled oop tae the "Club;" 
I carena to cook three meals a da^^ 

Wash, iron, bake and scrub. 
For nae man will 1 mend auld breeks, 

An' sew on buttons, no! 
An' feed the kye, an' min' the pig, 

Losh! to tiie "Club" I'll go. 



PEN PICTURES. 51 

We maun multiply auld AIoscs said, 

Replenish the Earth, (and jails) well! 
Auld Moses and his followers — hech! 

Our brithers we'll gie a sell; 
The modern Moses and St. Pauls — 

The riot act we'll read; 
We've loaded our dice for a new deal, 

We'll beat Dishonor and Greed. 

Siui^le harness suits, us weel. 

On the raid to fame we'll travel; 
An' the time we mak' in gettin' there. 

Will seem tae ye a marvel. 
We, wha arena buckled to men, 

Our ain style gait can tak'; 
An' gin we turn ye oot as tramps. 

Just ken 'tis brains ye lack. 

O! the Club, the Club, the "Woman's Club," 

A deal o' guid 'tis doing; 
Wisdom's leaflets here an' there, 

The women of the "Club" are strewing. 
The men will hae to hustle — yea. 

Gin they keep pace with us, 
An' gin we pass them on the raid, 

Ye'U hear a liowlin' fuss. 

Tlie Gude o' battles is on oor' side, 

The Fates are cumin' oor' way; 
We care n a for the Furies, 

An' the Sybils we can slay. 
The "unquiet sex", they call us. 

The men hae caught the cue; 
O High Priestess Susan B 

Gratitude sen's grecin's to you. 



52 



PEN PICTURES. 



Truth in its entirety — yea, 

Speaks as never' afore; 
In the flesh of auld Dame Politics, 

Is a dangerous festering sore, 
On it we'll turn the search-licht. 

The scalpel we'll apply; 
And cleanse with antiseptic 

In the sweet by-an'-by. 



A MONODY TO THE STORM. 



^^JCK, tack, tick, click! 

Like shot against the window pane, 

Tick, tack, tick, click! 
Is that the patter of the rain? 
Back I drew the curtain wide, 
AVhat I saw was once my pride; 

fust a few short weeks ago. 
It was beautiful an' bright; 
But on this December night, 

It is buried 'neath the snow. 
And I listen, sadly listen 
To the tick, tack, tick, click! 

Against the window pane. 

Mingled with the wind's refrain. 



Tick, tack, tick, click! 

Dead leaves falling from the the trees 
Whirling in the maddened breeze; 

Crash against the window pane. 

What is snow, but frozen rain? 
Tears from summer's pretty eyes. 
In the wind I hear her sighs; 

She is weeping for her flowers, 



PEN PICTURES. 53 

Wrecked her pretty rosy bowers; 
Tulip beds are brown and sear, 
Dead the lilies once so dear. 

Out there in my garden drear, 

Flitting round with antics queer; 
Is Jack Frost, with silver locks, 
He has dressed in pure white frocks, 

All the stalks that stand up straight. 

And the bushes — e'en the gate 
Of the garden, is so white. 
Like a ghost, 'twou'd give me fright. 

And there's cujDid, bare an' lone— 

That did sound like human moan! 
lake a Banshee's warning cry, 
Telling me that Death is nigh! 

Love's sweet Cupid! did you moan? 

Lucky, that you're made of stone! 
Gif my heart were like j^our ain, 
It wad then be free frae pain. 

Draw down close the window blind. 
Inside maybe I will find; 

One who will m3" mind divert, 

Wake my soul that seems inert; 
Brake the bolts of its barred cell, 
Bring it forth in light to dwell. 

Like the flowers beneath the snow. 

It was buried long ago. 
But from Death, Life yet may spring, 
Glad songs j^et my soul may sing; 

As the spring brings back the flowers, 

Bathes them in warm April showers; 
Sun and shower, then field of grass. 
Sac mony things may cum to pass. 

Wha ken's what the spring will bring? 

Time will tell, he is king. 



54 PEN PICTURES. 



€ 



A vSCORClI 



HE unkind cut — I heard it, man, 

Your privileges are great; 
To talk you have a lieense, man, 

Trowth! ye are nac blate. 
Your time-table— I'll mark it weel, 

I'll call whan ye aire oot; 
'Twill please us baith, aye, that it wil 

Of this fact there's no doot. 

Whan ye are oot a towshng roun', 

On your sweet-heart callin', aye, — 
Ye eanna fule Rab Burns, auld man, 

Ye play poker on the sl3^ 
Ye better pat mair i' the pool, 

Nae haud your gold sa3^ ticht; 
Be honest, generous, man-like. 

An' play the part o' richt. 

Gin I cum back to Earth life, losh! 

An' a lassie I suld be; 
I winna be your sweet-heart, 

Nae mistress unto ye. 
Ye'd loot me pick up atild dead wood, 

An' scrub an' wash an' scrub; 
O'niehts to be your sweet-heart, 

In the daylieht queen o', tubs. 

Ye threw the shaft, I caught the cue, 
I've gien ye tit for tat; 



PEN PICTURES. 



55 



Blaw for blaw, my motto, man, 

An' a' that an' that. 
I can protect my own, man, 

Pen an' Ink my shield; 
Ye fired the first shot, man, 

Ye're laid low on the field. 

April 1, 1900. 



LOSH! HUNTER! 




,t^ UNTER, hunting, hunted, 
A gaj^ auld hunter ye; 
Lang years ye've been liuntin', 
This, man, is what I sec. 

Lang trails, short trails, hard trails, 
The hunter's life is weird; 

Ye think the hunt is vain, 
This aften ye hae feared. 

Whan the cluds hing laigh, 
An black as mirky nicht; 

Afttimes the sinn cums oot, 
Sac beautiful an' liricht. 

An' whan the rain an' hail, 

Nae pity shaws to thee; 
'Tis then the rainbow comes. 

This vision, frien', I see. 



Hunter, hunting, hunted, 
An' still the hunt gaes on; 



56 PEN PICTURES. 

The witcliin' huntress, hunts 3^e, 
A lesson she maun con. 

A quean wi' gowden hair, ye ken, 
An' saut tears on her nose; 

Her heart is breakin', man. 
She's filled wi' lo'es sad woes. 

She kens na' what's the matter, man, 
She thinks that she's in lo'e; 

Rut it's the auld Deil HA^Dnotism, 
That's what ails the doo. 

Your Muse is gaun to corral ye, 
Fast an' lirm she'll bind; 

Ye'Il hae to stap your flirtin', 
Your business, yc maun mind. 

Your Muse noo bauds a pair o' shears. 
They maun be twa feet lang; 

She's gaun to cut Attraction's tics. 
An' stap 3^our doin' wrang. 

For ye do ken sac vera weel. 
The mighty power j-e've gat; 

Ye reach oot like a fisher's hook. 
An' catch them, an' a' that. 

It mak's me think o' aulden time, 

I lo'ed the lasses weel; 
Oh! I maun tell the truth, man, 

Unfairly I did deal. 

I didna' understand it then, 
Science was na' sac hie; 

An' I aften gat in trouble. 
By foolin' on the sl\\ 




•PEN PICTURES. 57 

Yc let the lasses gae too far, 

Afore ye freeze them oot; 
Ye keep them on the anxious seat, 

In a mixtie — maxtie doot. 

Noo, laddie dear, — I say, ye Iceii, 

Sometliing maun be done; 
Ye' re gaun to hae a shift in life, 

Ye're gaun to mak' some "muu." 

Ye'll pat it to the best o' use, 

I see it a' sae plain; 
Ye mean a' richt laddie, 

That is — in the main. 

Noo, I am auldcr than ye lad, 

Sae my advice ye tak'; 
An' by the haly gudes laddie! 

Mistak' ve winna mak'. 



TO CARL. 



H! I ken ye are weary an' randie. 
Ye are starvin' for luve, I sec; 
Your life seems weary an' empty 
This vision fricn' comes to me. 
But the warl is full o' sic, laddie. 
The warl aft gangs agle^-. 
But there's better times a comin' 
Fray the horribles yc will be free. 
Lier. 1893. 



58 PEN PICTURES. 



BIRTH OF ROBERT BURNS. 



Tlic following- menu has bccMi prepared for the birth- 
clay of Robert Burns b\' a Canadian ehef, representing 
one of the Highland elans. It is cpiite unique as will 
^be seen In- a perusal: 

Coekie Leekie, Tattie Soup. 

FIRST COORSE. 

Ta3', Sa union wi Butter Broo. 

Finnan Haddies, 

Buekies and Limpets, 
"Yellow Fush" frae Aberdeen wi reekit faees. 

SECOND COORSE. 

Seoteh Collops frae Hielant Nowte. 

Stewed Paitrieks wi Puddoek Stules. 
"Great Chieftain" fair fau you honest sonsy face. 

THIRD COORSE. 

Sheep's Heid wi stoved Tatties, 

Stuffed Bubbly Joek roasted, 

Mealy Pud dins an' Sweeps Gravats. 
A "Boer's" Snout stewed an' a stewed Soos Snout'. 
Tatties peel, daub and eat, 
Tatties Cham pit. 
Bashed Neepes an' Sooricks, 

Ma^dje a wee Donal'. 

FOURTH COORSE. 

Tripe in daubs wad sole your shoon. 



PEN PICTURES. 



59 



Dramuch and Soor Dook. 

Thin enough to droon rattens in. 

FIFTH COOKSH. 

A cup ofLipton'shaU-a-croon. 

Tairts o' hairy grozcts an' appcls. 
Trcaihn "John" an' a whccn ithcr orra things. 
Glasca Tupcnnv Pics an' Shortbread. 

Partan Pies an' whangs o' Kcbl)uck. 

Curny Bannocks an' Scones. 

CoUiers' Jeely an' Sweties— 

Maybe a big Donal's tae keep a' doon, 



TO MY LEAL FRIEN'S. 




Y BIRTH-DAY, kads, ye min' it wcel, 
Ye'reboun' to gic Rab Burns fair deal, 
Ilk Scotchman to Rab Burns is leal, 
I ken it a'. 
I am nae dead, I lee you see, 
Ye aften drink tae me in bree, 
I'm richt glad, ye sac weel agree. 
On ye I ea'. 

Auld England feels your miehty power, 
Ye winna to her hie lairds cower; 
Your grit an' Strang will is a dower, 

Ye are a' richt. 
Ye've hiney -combed the EngUsh nest. 
Ye doon their lairds, they have confessed, 
Afore they're thro' they'll be wcel dressed, 

Ye will indite. 



Plucked. 



60 PEN PICTlJREv^. 

The throne is on its last legs, man. 
This verdict from my spirit ban', 
There is a wiser, better plan, 

'Twill evolute. 
The Prince o' Wales will doon himscl', 
He's only fit to be in hell. 
The Prince in that place j^et will dwell, 

I hae na doot. 

Anld England's blae-bluids have dry-rot, 
The Germans see, an' say: "Mein Gott! 
The power lies ahint the Scott! 

MeinGott! Mein Gott!" 
An, France smiles sweetly a' the while, — 
Corruption aften does beguile. 
Destruction works with cunning wile. 

They plan and plot. 

The Scotts bide weel the future time, 

Victorj^, yet, her bells will chime, 

With pleasure Rab Burns pens this rln^mc. 

We wait the daw'. 
The clanish Scotts hing wecl thcgitlier, 
Leal they are to sister, brithcr. 
They recognize the Scottish tether, 
'Tis Nature's law. 
Janwar', 1900. 



PEN PICTURES. Gl 



MEPHIvSTOPHELEvS AT THE GRAVE OF A 
LAWYER. 



T last! at last! you're coiiqiicrcd, man of sin! 

It seemed to me, Death's work would ne'er begin; 
/ But now, I stand l^eside your resting plaee. 
Oman of sin! you've tried 3'our last — last ease! 
A criminal, you stand before your God! 
But true, so true, God's in a sorry plight! 
The sight of all your sins will give him fright. 
Your record is as dark as mirky night, 
I'm vera sure God's jury would indict. 
A soul of darkness, that never knew Truth's 

light,- 
Never wore the llower of a blameless life, 
But sowed the blood-red seeds of vice and 

strife. 
Wed to Intrigue and rivalries of Peace. 
Fate said to time: "Call Death and let this 

cease!" 

Upon you, Moses looks with wondering e^'e, 
And Abraham heaves a mournful sigh; 
Joshua bids the wdiirling sun stand still. 
Once more, old Time shuts down his busy mill, 
And Heaven and Hell arc given a holiday; 
While God and his Satanic Alajesty pra}^, 
And ponder and wonder, they seem mystified! 
The Devil does insist you're sanctified, 
And God must keep you in his holy fold. 



62 PEN PICTURES. 

But God replies: 

"Nae — iiae he's black as smut! 
He does belong in Hell's vilest hold! 
I'll none of him! in Hell he shall be put! 
Ha! the like of such a one in Heaven, 
Would ruin bring! You know a little leaven, 
Will leaven the whole lump. No! he'd breed 

treason. 
And mutin^^ would be on deck! Reason 
Say's this man from Earth must go to Hell. 
He'd capture Heaven's throne and quickly sell, 
God's regimentals for a drink of beer, 
Or wine, or old bour1)on, the like is dear 
To him. I could not sleep, I'd live in fear! 
He's slippery as an eel! uncertain as the wind! 
This, Mephistopheles, is the I'ccord I do find. 
So — I !nust send him down to hell!" 

Mephistopheles: — 
"Unjust God! I do appeal from your decree, 
(Appeal — appeal, was this man's trick I see.) 
This is the greatest wrong that you've done me, 
He'd followed up your church for many a year, 
The Sabbath da}' to liim w£is very dear." 

God:— 
"Yes, yes! I sec, one day he gave to me. 
And the six he dedicated to thee. 
Dear sir, I wonder not it gives you fright, 
But you must surel}^ see that I am right. 
'J'rue — true, he mingled with niy godly flock, 
But you will find he wore the Devil's smock; 
Your grips and pass-words, aye, he had them 

fine, 
(I must confess, he had a few of mine.) 
Six-sevenths of his deeds are in your line, 
He'll be all right— just give him gold and wine!" 



PEN PICTURES. 63 

Mepliistoplielcs: — 
"I will not yield so easy to your will, 
Among your herd, he took his Sundaj^ drill; 
I've got too many of your preachers now. 
Your Majesty, I've taken a solemn vow, 
To shut the gates of Hell against those men. 
That wear the cloak of holiness, no — nol 
He'd undermine the redoubt of hell! 
He'd steal the sulphur pots and quickly sell, 
A furlough to each spirit damned! He'd swear 
M}^ imps into his service, No! I dare 
Not trust this man from Earth! he's dark-dyed, 
In the crucible of truth, he's been tried. 
Uncertain treachery owns his black soul! 
To cheat honest men his highest goal. 
Neither God or Devil can trust this man, 
He'd surely bring defeat with cunning plan! 
Your Holiness! we'll shake, and drink, and 

friends be. 
And let this dark-dyed hypocrite go free; 
He'd be a curse to me, a curse to you, 
Turn him out with the Wandering Jew! 
If that does not meet your Godly approval, 
And you insist on a quick removal, 
And to eternal torture this soul must be sent; 
I'll sell you at Discount— say— ten per cent, 
Brimstone and dynamite, the best in my line, 
My goods are double X, considered tine. 
A little hell of your own you can run, 
(As hell was conceived in the brain of your 

son) 
Methinks he would certainly be the right one. 
To mind the fire and roast him well done." 

Randolph, July, 1892, R. B. 



64 



PEN PICTURES. 



TO JUDGE J. B. FISHER, 



SENT ye ward, ye I wad see, 
Ye remember it vera well; 
The time since then seems vera laug, 
I've been under Misfortune's spell. 
Dante's beasts were on my track, 

I could seethe python's trail; 
An' [ kcnt by the color of your hair, 
You cou'd twist the tiger's tail. 

Ye Ijuckled m, ye drew your sword, 

Ye faught tlie l)attle well; 
Your clarion notes rang out for right, 

The facts, man, ye did tell, 
Ye scattered them with your cat-o'-nine 

Ye laughed to hear them wail, 
An' the Judge he smiled ahint his ear, 

Whan ye twisted the tiger's tail. 



Losh! man, the skellums are a' deid, 

The requiem we'll sing; 
I'll lay on their graves, hops, thistles, 

Nettles; defeat vvdll bring. 
Victory now is in hie glee, 

Her ship is ready to sail, 
But she keeps right on a laughing, 

'Cause vc twisted the tiger's tail, 




i 




MINA S. SEYMOUR. 



PEN PICTURES. 65 



PICTURES FROM MEMORY'S PALACE. 



AM looking back to cliihlhood's morn, 
I see a blue frock and apron torn; 

Two bare feet, shoes in hand, 

The merriest child in all the land. 

Wading the creek on our homeward way, 

Like all children, I loved pla\'. 
In my dreams, I see the old dinner pail — 
How often I walked a crooked rail! 

Ate my dinner, sitting on a stump, 

Drank from the mouth of the old town pump. 
Rode dowm hill at a break-neck pace, 
Joined the bo3'S in a fox and geese chase, 
Rolled up a snow-man, called it the teacher; 
Whispered, and laughed at the calling preacher. 

Was there anything I didn't do? 

I think not— what think you? 

Life was then a day-dream bright, 
Sleep and rest came with the night. 

Care came not into my cup, 

With pleasure I did always sup; 

Dined with Fun, a joker she, 

Fun and I did well agree. 
Love's dream then was gloriously bright; 
Anticipation was the mother of Delight. 



66 PEN PICTURES. 

Danced all night till broad daylight, 
Didn't go home till the sun shone bright. 
Lovers went, lovers came, 
Love was a very uncertain game. 
My dear school friends — what a jolly crew I 
Where are the\^ all? I wish I knew! 
Jim is in the senate, Jack is in the bank, 
Mac is an oil-king, a gold-bug crank. 

Fannie is dead, gone to spirit life, 
Tote is married, she's a rich man's wife. 
Mary's an old maid, happy and free, 
Tw^o are divorced, I make three. 
Husbands three. Rose laid awa}-. 
Life is a tragedy, we're all in the play. 
Fate rings the changes, days come and go, 
Enjoy the living now, let Joy's cup overflow. 

Womanhood dawned, rosy and bright, 

I laughed with tlie birds from morning till night: 

Sang a merry roundelay, 

Was the gayest of the gay, 

Trouble never troubled me, 

Mirth and I did well agree. 
Tl^on, life was like a summer day, 
'Twas the second act in life's play. 

Drifting, drifting with the tide, 
Down the stream my boat did glide. 

Foolish Fancy dreaming, 

In it all a meaning. 

Rose colored all things seemed, 

Fancy '-s pictures glistened, gleatned. 
Like the rainbow of promise in the sky, 
Fancy pictured the by and by. 

Beautiful dreams, gloriously bright, 
Anticipation is Fancy's delight. 



PEN PICTURES. 67 

Anticipation, subtle and coy, 
As treacherous as the Chiefs of Mo^^ 
Anticipation, a dark winged wraith! 
Lures you into the toils of Death! 
You'll see her then in the garb of a thief. 
She's the twin of Destruction, the mother of Grief. 

The pictures cf love — none will compare, 

In the halls of Memory, stored they are there. 
The jewels of life, I treasure with care, 
Closed in Love's casket, gems that are rare. 
In the Palace of Memorv, the past lies dead, 
But Love is not there, in that pall-covered bed. 

Love on a golden throne is seen. 

Chanting Fate's threnod\', I ween. 

Pictures of loved ones hang on the wall, 
Real, life-like, I love them all. 

There's one sad face with love lit eyes, 

I hear his voice, I hear his sighs. 

The voice of love is low and sweet, 

With kind word, he, friends would greet. 
His smiles were sunshine that warmed my heart, 
Of his young life I was a part. 

We loved, we loved in a silent way. 
We cared not what the world did say. 

Youth's young love was strong and bright, 

In the tell-tale e3'es shone Love's light; 

Nature's love, first and best, 

They who win it, sure are blest. 
Angels bless a love like this. 
When Cupid and I*S3xhe kiss. 

Hope was jo\'ous, buoj-ant and bright, 
Ho]je was a goddess always in sight. 

Hope Avas an angel ever near, 

Hope brought Harmony, Peace and Cheer. 



68 PEN PICTURES. 

Hope was my morniug and evening star; 

I lived in Hope's aerial car. 
Soared to the seventh sphere of Delight, 
Sad day, when Hope vanished from sight. 

Beautiful castles I built in the air, 

Beautiful castles, rich and rare; 

Built and burnished by the hand of Love, 
Rosy-hued castles in imagery wove. 
Gilded and tinted to perfection by Art, 
Beauty— Art's hand-maid played well her part. 

With beautiful flowers, my castles were decked, 

Sad day, when my beautiful castles were wrecked. 

In the warp and woof of Memory's chain. 

Are color vibrations of Misfortune's refrain. 
Love was innocent, Love was true. 
His rose-colored glasses changed to blue. 
In the ebb and flow of Life's surging sea, 
Disappointment came to Love and me. 

The wheels of time rolled in new changes. 

Futurity, man's plan deranges. 

Love never doubted or mistrusted. 
He was not jealous, always trusted. 

He gathered the golden sheaves of each hour, 

This the secret to Fate's rich dower. 

The robe of Life, weaving each day, 

Beautiful as the rainbow's ray. 
To Harmon3''s music, he listened, listenedl 
('Twas Deception's cobweb that glistened, glis- 
tened!) 

Love was truth, hope, charity, my all; 

A model of kindness, I listened to his call. 
I saw not Tyranny's subtle wand — 
I saw not the treacherous shifting sand— 



I'EN PICTURES. 09 

I saw not DestriicLion's iever vStrong — 
I (lid not (Ircani of disaster and wrong. 
My love, Aly King, the pride of my soul, 
To be worthy of him, was my highest goal. 

Petted and h:)ved, ay, loved and earessed, 

I w.itehed the eoming of the one I loved best; 

Ik'st of all, to me he was dear, 

In his love, I knew not fear. 

Strong and brave, he feared no foe, 

{Dame Future's plans proved a fatal blow.) 
Woe to mel woe to me! Fate gave the sad dc- 

ereee, 
She brought a eloud of darkness, it was to be. 

Destiny, Mad Destiny! she crushed my heart! 
She is a tragic queen, she played well her part! 

Cruel Fate! heartless F\ate! 

Merciless demon! yotir name I hate! 

1 led your breath, a fiery blast! 

I am your slave, at last! at last! 
The Hero of my life! go on! go on! 
Woe me! the awful lesson I must con. 

Oh Fate! 3'Oii have critshed, ruined, blasted my 

life;' 
Turned me from i1ower\' ])aths of peace, into rug- 
ged roads of strife. 
You darkened all the windows that let the 

sunlight in! 
You were Destruction's imp, from the cess- 
pool of sin! 
You brought the demon Darkness, from the 

mirkev hold of Hell! 
I must be resigned, with this devil I must 
dwell. 
Bacchus and his imps, will feast at my table, 



70 PEN PICTURES. 

They would disgrace a beast, Truth vies with 
Fable. 

Across 1113' j)ath with dagger drawn, stood Fate, 

bold and stern; 
"A prisoner thou art, Lady mine, sad lessons you 
must learn." 
Quickly into Plell, like Dante I was hurled! 
I cursed the day I was born to the world! 
I cursed the da}' I first saw the light! 
Cursed the Fates that brought this blight! 
Crazed conditions! Heredity gave to man, 
Conditions to be subdued, through Evolution's 
plan. 

A thorny road I traveled, many, many years; 
Ivike a chain-gang slave, with a master he dreads 
and fears. 
A slave to conditions, conditions born of man, 
And with it no rendition, denj^ it, ay, who 

can' 
This is the Devil's "Bridge of Sighs," 
The Devil is cunning, tricky, yet wise, 
License! License! \'Ou have brought this damned 

curse! 
What could you have done that would have been 
worse? 

Oh! the good angel Mercy, my sad petition heard; 
I prayed for better conditions, she drew her 
trusted sword. 
"Go back! go back, you demons, into your 

sinful bed! 
Traitors gave yon license!" this to the Fates, 

she said. 
Traitors to mothers! traitors to sons! to 
Honor, Justice and all; 



PEN PICTURES. 71 

Forty thousand slain each year, covered by 

license pall. 
Merc\' whispered in my ear. "Lad3^ mine, be of 

good cheer; 
There's a work for you to do, you will conquer 

Dread and Fear." 

With gentle hand, soft and fair, 

She stroked my glossy, silken hair. 

She calmed my fears, quelled my fright, 
She bade me fear no more the night. 
She took from Bacchus the crown of Might 
And placed it on the brow" of Right; 

She turned the Furies from my door, 

And bade them come w4thin no more. 

Robert Le Diable, she sent far awaj^, 

To the coast that is washed by Pacific:'? spray; 

Then she bade me seek in the world's busy 
throng, 

A balm to heal the deep wounds of Wrong. 

She bade me be patient and work with a will, 

She'd give me a place that none ither could 
fill. 
In the tragedy- of life, a part I must play, 
She bade me hope for a brighter da5\ 

Then with her magic wand, she waved the clouds 

away. 
And brought to me in place, the golden sun's 
l3right ray. 

A shimmering cloud of gold and blue, 

Across ni}' vision quickU' flew; 

The silver lining I could see, 

A lovely sight it was to me. 
Freedom's song, Heaven's choirs did sing, 
The white-winged dove the olive branch did bring. 



72 PKN PICTURES. 



Then from her silver girdle, she took a golden key, 
Quick the gates of Futurity opened unto me. 

Entrancing was the vision, would that \'ou 

could see, 
The gift of clear-seeing, this power she gave 

to me. 
She opened wide the door of Time, 
And there I saw the monarch P'ame. 
Dame Future's secret mysteries, my life work un- 
veiled, 
The mystic, magic key revealed, my life's book 
there unsealed. 

Oh loved Maurenel I bid you hope as once before; 
Treasures for you Fate holds in store. 

Plent^^ opens v^-ide her door, 

Ye'll receive good things galore. 

From the Palace of Wisdom, from the loom 
of Thought, 

Ladj' fair, rich gems will be brought. 
Evolution's spinning wheels, their spindles quickly 

fly; 

To a happy thought accompaniment, oh! the 
sw^eet bv-and-bv. 



A QUOTATION. 

UT loyalty, truce! we're on dangerous ground; 
. Who knows how the fashions may alter? 
The doctrine to-daj^ that is loyalty sound. 
To-morrow may bring us a halter. 

Robert Burns. 



PEN PICTURES. 73 



ON THE DEATH OF SENATOR JUSTIN MORILL, 
OF VERMONT. 



Father of the Senate, in his 89th year, after having 
served contiiiuoush^ in the Senate since 1867. 

T last! at last! one fossil has passed out, 
Republicans are glad, I hae na doubt; 
We hope a live man in that seat will sit, 
A man of brains, possessed of reason — wit. 

Tis vera sad, yea, vera sad, I think, 
I smile tae see those deid heids w^ink a'n' blink; 
They pose as statues in the money mart, 
Deid blocks, like chess-men moved to play their 
part . 

Their millions bti}' those chairs, gold pays their 

tools, 
They pose as great men, m the farce, like fools; 
Oh! manv" years Death leaves the corpse alive, 
An' laughs to see dame Poly Ticks contrive. 

An' sae the U. S. shaw gaes on an' on, 
To the disgust o' mony a decent men; 
Gin ye hae gold, the state an' all ye buy, 
With mold and dry-rot, in that seat ye die. 

A Hoose o' Lairds, that Senate sune will be, 
Gold rules the Ian', an' there is naething free; 



74. PEN PICTURES. 

The grit machine turns oot its grist yc ken, 
An' Senators arc gar't, mrichinc made men. 

Sen' my opinions tac dear Uncle Sam, 
I'm vera sure 'twad mak' an angel dam.n; 
This bluidy holocaust, this war to view, 
Lamentable the truth, I'm tellin' a'Ou. 

Elect young men — wise men, those seats to fill, 
Chance says:- "they may consult the people's 

will;" 
The fossils will not, will not, as you see. 
From a live corpse oh! Death, please set us free. 

Oh for Jock Hornbook! that Senate sure he'd 

fix," 
With his aqua fortis. Death's dose he'd mix; 
Oh Gude o' mercA^ what will we do? 
I ken, this cursed wiel's too much for you. 



TO LILY DALE. 



^ EAR Lily Dale, I wish to say, 
Your lads are getting eild; 
The frostA^ fleece of time, they wear, 

Their heads are gray and beld. 
Responsibilitj^ is grit, 

I dinna ken Vv^hat they'd do. 
Without that— "Lobby member," 
Ay, Lily, wdiat think you? 

Oh! that "Lobby member"!!! 
The "Board," 1 fear she'll wind 



PEN PICTURES. 75 

Aronn' her finger, aye, aye! ! ! 

An' twist them like a string; 
The auhl dame has a charmin' way — 

To time — them, she ma^^ bring. 

That "Lobby Member!" that "Lobby Member!" 

Has she three in her ])ool? 
Their intluenee, favors hearts, 

Are they drilled in her sehool? 
Her stock in trade, ah! weell! losh!! 

Has she bewitched the pack? 
H^^pnotized by her sweet smile— 

For this, has she a knack? 

"The Circe-like Cleopatra, 

Her witch-like ways some crave; 
She posed a charming conquerer. 

Her subject was a slave." 
And is it true, that "Lobby Member," 

Has got her tricks down fine? 
An', is it true, the charming dame, 

Has got a few o' mine? 

Losh! whan the like o' yo can rule. 

Dry rot has struck the heid; 
There's na much spiritualitj', 

The vital powers are dcid. 
It's time the spirits called a halt, 

An' chant their sad refrains, 
An' drap in Time's cauld scpulcher. 

The fossilized remains. 
April 20, 1900. 



76 PEN PICTURES. 



TO J. W. DENNIS. 



^t/^0 black for me, 

No robes of night, 
No clouded brow, 

But robes of light; 
No pall on coffin-lid. 

No priestly quack, 
No tears of grief, 

No hireling hack, 
So woes, no wails, 

No sorrow's veils; 
But shouts of joy, 

And songs of mirth 
Proclaim the news, 

"Another birth." 

J. W. Dennis. 



Whan ye are born again, 

We winna wear the mirkey robes o' nicht; 
Na' fear o' that, nae!— nae! 

Whan we are born again. 
We'll robe ourselves in garments bright, 

Frien', ye shall hav' your wa3^ 

Whan ye are born again, 

Na' cluddy brow j^e'll see, 
Whan 3^e are born again. 

Nae pall on coffin-lid for ye, 



PEN PICTURES. 77 

Whan ye are born again, 

Fret na' your dear soul frien'. 

Na' pall on coffin-lid for ye, 

We'll 'gree, frien', aye, we'll 'gree; 

Nae tears o' grief— nae priestly quack, 
Like men we'll stan' by thee; 

Nae waes or wails, na' sorrow's veils, 
Fools o' oursels we winna mak'. 

Whan ye are born again, 

Life's win's will cease to blaw; 
Whan ye are born again. 

The calm o' Peace wall cum, we knaw. 
Whan ye are born again. 

We'll ken it weel, dear frien'. 

We'll plant a stane aboon your heid, 

A ton or sae, whan ye are born. 
We'll shout wi' joy — sing sangs o' mirth, 

A jubilee we'll gie Transition's morn. 
Guid cheer we'll gie that birth 

Sae sure as ye gae deid. 
March 1895. 



A WARNLNG. 



OUBTNA spirits are ever near. 
Ye wha scoff, hae reason to fear; 

. Ahint the scenes ye often sneer, 
We ken say weel. 
Ye geek your heids, an' sniff the air, 
Say mony things that arena fair; 



78 PEN PICTURES. 

Ye'll dae weel, yea, gin je take care, 
An' gie fair deal. 

Gif walls cud talk, I hear ye say, 
Beware! ye canna tell, they may; 
Thochts are things, they star the play, 

Fair ye maun be. 
Spirit folk are ilka where, 
Your ilka thocht an' ward we share, 
I wonner afttimes hoo ye dare 

Insult the like o' me. 
Feb. 3, 1900. Robert BurxNS. 



A CHAT WITH THE FIRE. 



URN — lire — burn, 

Oh! there's beauty in the fire! 
See the flames leap high, higher! 

Burn — tire — burn! 
Ha! you little imps of fire, 
Back behind the fender stay! 
Do your dancing 'on the logs. 
Spit no more sparks out this way! 
Burn — fire — burn! 

Burn — fire — burn! 
See the little demons peek! 
They are playing hide-an'-seek, 

Burn — fire — burn! 
Such queer faces I can see — 
Faces real, they seem to me; 
Little iiends with eyes that glare! 
Others, beautiful and fair. 

Burn — fire — burn! 




PEN PICTURES. 79 

Burn — fire — burn! 
I'm so }uip|)3^ here to-night, 
Sitting by the fire-light, 

Burn — fire — burn! 
My true love will eome this eve, 
Aye! m\^ love will not deceive. 
He is faithful as the sun. 
Kind an' true to every one. 

Burn — fire — burn! 

Burn — fire — burn! 
Let 3^our rosy flames leap higher; 
While Apollo tunes his lyre, 

Burn — fire — burn! 
The Musie mine, his harp will bring, 
Sweetest songs to thee he'll sing; 
Love sangs o' th' aulden time, 
Burns' queer tales doun oop in rhyme. 

Burn — fire — burn! 

Burn — fire — burn! 
Prett}^ flames of rosy hue; 
Blue and gold lights streaking through. 

Burn — fire — burn! 
Happy is my soul to night, 
Filled to brim with Love's delight; 
Aye, my love is on the way, 
And I know what love will say — 

Burn — fire — burn. 

Burn — fire — burn! 
Love was all unken'd to me; 
Nae virtue in it eould I see. 

Burn — fire — burn! 
But ae day Love eam' alang, 
Aye th' ])ower o' Luve is Strang; 
Luve eau't me i' his net sae fast, 



80 PEN PICTURES. 

Fate sae quick the die did cast. 
Burn — fire — burn. 

Burn — fire — burni 
Luve's fire burns as bright as this; 
Sweet bliss comes with lover's kiss, 

Burn — fire — burn! 
Thrilled by Love's mesmeric spell, 
In his palace I now dwell, 
I Love's queen, will some day be, 
He a king will be to me. 

Burn — fire — burn! 

Burn — fire — burn! 
Make the room warm, bright an' i 
We'll be cozy as twa mice. 

Burn — fire — burn! 
While he tells me of his luve, 
You can watch the turtle-dove. 
She can coo and laugh as well, 
But she is too wise to tell. 

Burn — fire — burn. 



THE PEACE COMMISSIONERS. 



OD bless the Peace Commissioners! 
Nae doot thc}^ are weel paid; 
In spite of all their clishmaclaver, 

They'll see war I'm afraid, 
Sae lang as men like Mark Hanna, 

Twist the President's ear, 
The flood gates of war will open, 
An bluid wall rin I fear. 
Sept. 1897. 




ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. 



PEN PICTURES. 81 



TO COL. ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. 



^.. THANK ye for your "This An' That," 
y^ I I'm muckle pleased dear "Bob;" 
^j|^ I'm vera proud to ken that ye, 
Rememl^er Scotland's Rob. 
A man maun lee, a man maun dee, 

Afore he's kissed b^^ Fame; 
It tak's sae mony hard knocks, "Bob,' 
To srlorifv one's name. 



Oh! whan a man like ye daur saj-, 

I'm grander than a prince! 
I'm glad I turned the poet's crank, 

An' gar't the auld kirk wince. 
There's ae thing that I didna do, 

I wadna tell a lie; 
Like ye, I am an artist, "Bob," 

Pen Pictures I will gie. 

That wee bit hovel gar't o' clay, 

Wad that it's wa's cou'd talk; 
Aye mony a sad — sad tale thej^'d tell, 

O' nichts that I did walk 
The floor alane, an' greet, an' greet, 

Wi' sorrow my saul was pres't; 
Aly heart was aching sairly, 

For me there wasna rest. 

Auld Fate was hard upo' this chiel, 
Nae mercy shaw'd puir Rob; 



82 PEN PICTURES. 

I thocht that writ in' poetry, 

Was a wanchancie job. 
Whan Hoonger sat by my ingle-lowe, 

An' Want cam' i' the door; 
I said:- weel! poetry is guid, 

But bairns need something more. 

I faught the battle weel an' Strang, 

The writin' I maun do; 
I didna hae the siller "Bob," 

That Fate has gien to ^--ou. 
I bauldly faced auld Destiny, 

Fate gied me nae position; 
I suffered niair than I can tell, 

By poverty's inquisition. 

"Auld Scotland's prhice," ye ca' me "Bob, 

Ye are my ain leal frien'; 
The spirit folk on this side, "Bol)," 

Ca' \^e the king o' men. 
The Great I Am, o' Liberalism, 

As Buddha to his clan; 
As Confucius to his jjeople. 

Savior, ye are to man. 

Aye! your courage is unbounded. 

Ye never fear a foe; 
Ye've douned auld Orthodox sae flat, 

As a' kirk men do know. 
Ye are the power o' the times. 

The greatest man as j^et; 
Losh! whan the preacher tackles yl\ 

He gets left i' the wet. 

I did na' ape auld Horace, Bob, 

An' Chaucer was nae me; 
I am my ain Scotch sel' "Bob," 

I am fu' o' poetry. 



PEN PICTURES. 83 

'Twas born of real conditions, 

It environment, did produce; 
Passion leaped like red-het fire, 

I did traduce — sediice. 

The lairds, an' dukes, an' earls, an' sirs. 

Were wur than I daur be; 
An' whan I saw their mistresses, 

It raised the deil with me. 
Then, whan the same thing I did do, 

They frowned me doun, ye see! 
Auld nature is the same to all. 

Nature an' T agree. 

Aly pen did turn into a sword. 

My ink was red-het fire; 
The aristocrats sune foun' "Bob," 

1 played oopon the (liar) lyre. 
An' whether he be priest or laird, 

I didna care a d n! 

I faced them with the truth "Bob," 

I stood oop like a man. 

It was sae hard to stan' alane, 

An' fling the shot an' shell; 
Wi' auld Orthodox a hovvlin', 

An' the neibors aft as well. 
But, Courage stood ahint me, 

An' Victory kissed me aft; 
An' the gentry an' the lassies, 

Gied pats, wi' lian' sae saft. 

My life was nae sae badly spent. 

Forgot I ne'er will be; 
There's mon^^ a one here an' there, 

Will haud a place for me. 
My rhymes I ken, are lo'ed by some, 

I tin' them i' the hame; 



84 PEN PICTURES. 

Auld Scotland's sonsie laddie, 
Won honor, lo'c, an' fame. 

There's ae thing I maun tell ye, "r)ob," 

Spiritualism is true; 
The Muses help ye preach, "Bob," 

I aften stan' by you. 
I am a warker i' the field, 

Spirits are a niichty host; 
Weel — "Bob," I can't fin' Heaven or Hell, 

Christ, God or the Ploly Ghost. 

A lass I've fand, that suits me weel, 

A sensitive is she; 
'Tis thro' her organism, I cum, 

An' write today to 3'e. 
Ye'U cum oor w^ay some day, "Bob," 

Ye'll meet my bonnie Dame; 
I'm gaun to gie my sonsie lass, 

Po\ver, walth, an' fame. 

She is as faithful as the sun, 
She w^rites frae morn till night; 

I fand her 'neath the upas tree, 
Sorrow had gien its blight. 

She is the Cinderella, 

I've leuked for mony a year; 

An' ye w^ill fin' I'll mak' o' her, 
A wise, a witty seer. 

I'm writin' anither beuk, "Bob," 

Red-het, like the ither; 
I'm shakin' oop the rotten kirk, 

I'm after the Christian brither. 
I am nae deid, but lee, aye! aye! 

I wield the pen the same; 
I'll gie them anither tragedy, 

They'll forgetna my name. 



PEN PrCTURES. 85 



This is a conversazione, 

A telegram to ye; 
Noo — "Bob," dinna gae ske])ticizin' 

An' say this isna me. 
Yc — o' hie degree, a sensitive, 

Inspiration cnms to ye; 
A spirit ban' helps ye "Bob," 

Agnostic tho' ye be. 



FATHER vSNIFFLE'S CONFESSION. 



LORD! here in thy holy church, 

With prayer I come to thee; 
Father, Son and Holy Ghost, 

Three in one, and one in three. 
Almight}' is thy power, O God! 

Thy penetrating eye dost see, 
And know, mj^ soul with grief is sore. 

From sin, O God! set me free! 
Ghaist — 'Tis true, in this confessional, O man! 

Ye've aft en been afore. 

When my weak soul was wracked with pain, 

And I a coward, shook with fear; 
With secrets dark, I dare not tell. 

E'en tlien, I felt your presence near. 
The dark- winged messenger of Sin, 

Temptation — through it we fall; 
The wily snake that smiled on Eve, 

O God! 3'ou viewed it all! 
Ghaist — Is there no surcease from H^^pocrisA'? 

Your sins — man, are na small. 




80 PEN PICTURES. 

Temptation does me oft beguile, 

She sets her cunning snare; 
With a bewitching Circe-hke smile, 

Her traps are ever^^whcre. 
Tho' priest I am, of woman born, 

Her weak points I inherit. 
M}^ reputation is good, O God! 

(But YOU know what I merit.) 
Ghaist— And l)e it this or be it that, 

The crown of thorns, A-e'll wcnr it. 

On thee, O Lord! I loudly- call, 
Save me from sin's fell snare, 

Sin and Tem])tation, twins from IIcll! 
1 meet them ever^'where. 

God! in this confessional, 
I humbly bend the knee, 

1 consecrate my life, O God! 
Consecrate it to thee. 

Ghaist— O Father, Son! (I am the ghaist,) 
A holy trinit_v. 

O Holy Mother! Mary, virgin! 

The cross I make to thee; 
In meekness, H0I3" Mother! 

I humbl^^ bend the knee. 
Bear with my sins, O Mother mine! 

List' Mother, while I pra3^; 
The load is greater than I can bear, 

I will confess to-day. 
Ghaist — Science now sees with Godlike e3'c. 

Turn on the Cathode raj-. 

O God! 'tis here that erring souls 

Confess so oft to me; 
The sins they've done from daj^ to daj^ 

'Tis here I take the pardoning fee. 



PEx\ PICTURES. 87 

A servant to your holy law, 
The wafer on their lips I place; 

Ecclesiastical politj^ — a rite from God — 
It saved the sinner from disgrace. 
Ghaist— The law and rites of Gods and Priests 
To Almighty Man we trace. 

Like ithers, I'll take bread and wine, 

(I'll feast while others fast;) 
With hol}^ water I'll wet my brow. 

By this the sinner's blest. 
Here in thy holy temple, O God! 

Men kneel — the cross they kiss; 
Faith gives them holy confidence, 

Supernal grace and bliss. 
Ghaist — The bliss o' ignorance ye ken, 

Losh! my opinion this. 

Great God! infallible I am to them, 

Infallible you are to me; 
A suppliant, I kneel an' sue for grace, 

'Tis mtrcj, God, I ask of thee. 
Oh! give me Cyril's power, O God! 

That T may dethrone Wrong; 
Oh! concentrate your legions, God, 

And make your fortress strong. 
Ghaist — But nae sae Strang but what 'twill fall, 

Dissenters ye're amang. 

'Tis here, girls tells of wa\" ward sins, 

And ask to be forgiven. 
'Tis here they tell the old, old tale, 

Hov.' poverty and cold has driven 
Them out into a cruel world, 

Where ])read is hard to get, 
Into Sin's whirlpool they are hurled. 

With cnnningness Sin's traps are set. 



88 PEN PICTURES. 

Gliaist— Puir weaklings! innocent an' blin', 
Food an' shelter hard to fin'. 

O God! so well, I know 'tis true, 

'Twas in an hotir like this; 
With cold and hunger in the home, 

Temptation, their lips did kiss. 
Life struggles for existence, 

Attraction is a subtle king, 
His treacherous smile revives dead hope, 

Many pleasures he does bring. 
Ghaist— Ye ken it weel, just hoo they fa', 

Boceace has tauld it a'. 

The tempter gave them l)read and wine, 

They whose purse held not one dime; 
Did kneel before Temptation's shrine, 

Sad duty mine, sad duty mine! 
Evil, with Argus-eye did vrorsQ, 

Lust gave them love, food and wine. 
Ghaist— He wdia noteth the sparrow's fall, 

Saw it all — saw it all! 

With Luve's sweet promise he led them on, 

With glittering gold that hired ; 
Into the beautiful palace of sin, 

Into a gilt-edged hell ensnared, 
Want bade them go within. 

Thou knowest, their souls endured 
Much before they fell. 

Forgiveness I assured. 
Ghaist — Poverty wdtli empty maw. 

Stops nae for man made law. 

To God's confessional, men £ift come, 
Confess their sins — jca, bold; 

You know, O Lord! confession, 
Will keep them in the fold. 



PEN PICTURES. 89 

'Tis here the treacherous wife reveals, 

The dark waVvS of her life; 
Forgiveness asks, she pays me well, 

I pass her, as a pure good wife. 
The worldly sins of all my Hock, 

I cover as best I can; 
Confession and forgiveness, 

This is Salvation's plan. 
Ghaist — Confession, — confession, a devlish priestly plan! 

Confession — confession, it enslaves the mind 
of man! 

Tis here the husband comes in prayer, 

Repentingl3^ bends the knee; 
I intercede with thee, O God! 

With a confession to me. 
To please an angrj- God, 

He pa^'s a princelj^ fee; 
Reveals the crimes of a burdened sonl, 

Dark-dyed is the l)lood of his heart; 
Virtue's maids he led astray, 

He played the villain's part. 
Seduced, like Mary in Joseph's day, 

(The Ghost did blind the vvorld,) 
Damned through eternity, aye! 

In scandal's cesspool hurled. 
They pay the penalty'' of crime and shame, 

With ruined character, and blackened name. 
Ghaist — Suicide tak's them in his arms. 

Croons them to sleep with Death's weird 
charms. 

'Twas in this consecrated room, O God! 

That Patrick Jones his sins confessed; 
His crimes were black, black as could be. 

He asked to be forgiven and blessed, 
Confession made him clean and free. 

He whipped his wife one Sunday morn; 



90 PEN PICtURE^. 

(A follower of Christ was he,) 

'Twas jnst before her bcibc was born. 
Poor child! to such a brute a slave! 

His soul was dead, I think. 
Heart, conscience, soul, what e'er it be, 

'Twas stultified, and drowned in drink. 
Ghaist — Rum mak's man, a thing beneath the beast, 

Drink! drink! 'tis a devil's feast! 

He often cursed and whipped his child, 

A fiend, he seemed to be; 
With rum his brain was fired an Tvald, 

O God! he came to me, 
Here in this holy confessional. 

Repentant, meek and mild. 
Confession — forgiveness — gold, 

HypocrisA^ sweetly smiled. 
O God! 3^ou know 'tis true — 'tis true, 

He knelt to you in prayer, 
And asked for your protection, 

Your mercy, love and care. 
Ghaisl: — The han' o' the priest he crossed wi' gold. 

In the kirk mart, forgiveness bought an' 
sold. 

Then, there is Doctor Hardshell, 

Who gives the old blue pills; 
He ):)leeds as in j-e auldcn time. 

Gives ipecac and squills. 
For money he did murder, 

A mother and babe, ('twas said,) 
'Twas a married man that paid him. 

The victim w^as a maid. 
To this holy confessional. 

The doctor came one da}-. 
And here he knelt confessing, 

And penitently did pray. 



PEN PICTURES. 91 

Gliaist — The warl is fu' o' just sic men, 

Ycil lin' tbem ilka where, ye ken. 

Then, God, there was Dick Marblchead, 

The cashier in the bank; 
Gold and silver he gave the church. 

His purse was never lank. 
He praised the Lord with singing, 

Devotion's child was he; 
A servant to your holy cause, 

A servant, Dick was to me. 
Ghaist— Ahint the door o' your confessional, 

Ye're tellin' the braid truth, man; 
Ye've the bag that hands the kirk's crimes. 

An' the hale devlish plan. 

His soul he gave to Jesus, 

For Christ he'd always stood; 
He loved the old religion, 

To him 'twas sureh' good. 
He knew there was a saviour. 

Who all sins could forgive; 
He believed in immortality, 

In Heaven the soul would live. 
Ghaist — O haly priest! O haly priest! 

Word pictures ye hae gien; 
A chicl's amang ye takin' notes, 

As some daj^ will be seen. 

O Lord! you know Dick Marblchead, 

Fell in Temptation's way; 
He borrowed twenty' thousand. 

And then forgot to paj-. 
'Twas strange that he dare take it, 

On holy Christmas day, 
His faithful wife, supposed that Dick, 

Had gone to church to pray. 
Losh! Dick crossed the wild Niagara, 



92 PEN PICTURES. 

Into Canada he got; 
There's lots of Christians over there, 
That is a sacred spot. 
Ghaist— The law has bridged the falls ye ken, 
An' noo we cateh Christ's haly men. 

Then, there was Father Bnncombee, 

The child of Humility; 
He cared for his aged motlicr. 

She was the soul of Purit\'. 
Sisters, he had six or seven, 

I can't remember which; 
He fell in love with the banker's wife, 

She was beautiful and rich. 
One evening after service, 

She stayed with him to pray; 
They came to this confessional, 

(They'd been here, before, that day.) 
The mischief, then, they finished, 

They vowed they'd run away; 
But just before they started, 

They thought they'd better pray. 
Ghaist — Events like this, are hah^ scenes. 

Object lessons for the weans. 

Then they asked you, Lord, to watch them, 

Send prosperity long their way; 
The}' asked you. Lord, to bless thcni, 

Bless them from day to day. 
Then the Father asked the banker's wife. 

If she would sure be true; 
Then they kissed each other fondly, 

And left it all with you. 
Ghaist— Hypnotic bliss is sweet I ween, 

But I wadna gic for it a preen. 

Once more I will remind you Lord, 
Of the sins of Pat O' Grundy; 



PEN PICTURES. 93 

You'll find him 'round the corner, Lord, 

Selling whisky all day Sunda3^ 
He pours it out to men and boys, 

A sort of liquid damnation; 
He's ruined fathers, husbands, sons! 

There's no one in creation 
Can do more harm to wives and babes. 

And ruin more happy homes. 
Than this same Pat O'Grundj^, 

And 3'et to church he conies; 
And he, O Lord! oft asks 3'ou, 

To hear his humble prayer; 
PVom church he goes straight to his den! 

It is a hellish snare! 
Gliaist — Gif it is wrang to drink on Sundaj', 

Isna the sin as grit on Monday? 

Lord! 3'ou have forgiven. 

The followers of Fraud and Sin 

1 now approach your Holiness, 
And pass my trotdjlcs in. 

I'll lay them all before 3'ou, 

As others have done before; 
And wdien thej^'re reckoned up, I fear, 

O Lord! you'll find there's more 
Than all the rest together; 

Your judgment 1 must face, 
(This holy cloak — my rosary, 

Will shield me from disgrace.) 
Have merc\' on my soul, O Lord! 

Look on my sins with pity's eye! 
Draw not on me Grim Vengeance's wratii, 

In future days, O Lord I'll try, 
A better record I will make. 

You are the soul of charit^^, 
Aly sins forgive for Jesus sake! 

O bless! sweet angel of purit}-! 



94 PEN PICTURES. 

Now — While you wisely ponder 

I'll take a glass of wine; 
For Jesus sake! for Jesus sake! 

With spirits I'll drink and dine. 

To priest, a friend is wine. 
Ghaist — 'Tis wondrous strange the power ye've got, 

Blin' ignorance follows ye I wot. 

Ay! there is one thing father, 

Let me whisper in your ear; 
I wouldn't mention this, no! 

So any one could hear. 
God! don't brand me a Solomon, 

With a thousand wives or more; 
(Publicity wou'd wreck me, sure,) 

Their true hearts would l)e sore; 
To know I loved some other one, 

They now are true as steel; 
'Tis only through this secrecy, 

That with them I can deal. 
And there's my mother — my sisters, 

'Twould be a life disgrace; 
I'd have to pack my grip-sack, 

And get me from this place. 
Ghaist — riypocris3^'s cloak is braid and lang, 

Aneath it is hid, Vice and Wrang, 

I feel so very sure, O Lord! 

Your pardoning grace is ample; 
The men you've pardoned heretofore. 

In truth's a holy sample. 
And now, O Lord! before 3^our throne, 

I've come, confess I must! 
You know I'm strangely fashioned. Lord, 

With sinful, Heslily lust. 
But so was Abraham, and Saul, 

Aye, David and fair Ruth, 



^EN PICTURES. 95 

ForgiYC, O Lord! a sinful man, 
Who dares to tell the truth. 
Ghaist— Your houghmagandie waj-s the Ghalst cansee, 
Like ony ither toop, Gude better apron ye. 

Christ was sent (the Bible says,) 

The shiful man to save; 
Crucified upon the cross. 

His life for us he gave. 
The priest, the saint, the vilest knave, 

On thecs O Lord! our sins we cast. 
Forgive God! forgive! forgive! 

For penance I will praj^ and fast. 
Ghaist— Chant on, chant on, we'll watch ye well. 

Your baggage, I see, is checked to Hell. 

O God! a heavy burden you have got, 
And sad indeed must be your lot; 
It was not me that fixed things so. 
It's your own plan, yea, well you know, 
This is the great salvation plan. 
Confess, confess, O sinful man! 
Licentiate — murderer, thief! 
Some day j^ou'll come to grief. 
In your last hour atonement make, 
O gracious Lord! 'twas for the sake 
Of David, Solomon and me, 
Christ died on Calvary. 

There's one thing more that I must mention. 
O Lord! please give it your attention. 
The infidels are on our track. 
They have destro^-ed the hoh'^ rack. 
The iron-virgin thsj have stole, 
We'll soon be singing songs o' dool. 
The Holy Yirgin, the^- mak' transpire; 
Aye — they've quenched the holy fire 
That burned the heretic — In faith, 



96 PEN PICTURES. 

No longer can we play the mystagogue, 
To them, we're but a hollow^ wraith. 
O Lord! the truth is dawning fast, 
They have unveiled the bitter past! 
They're weakening fast our holv power, 
No longer can we make them cower. 
They care no more for hell than ice. 
They care no more for the Devil than mice, 
The H0I3' Bible they've simmered fine. 
Till Bibles sell for scarce a dime. 
And preachers have close picking now, 
Voltaire and Paine stirred up a row. 
Ghaist — My cat-o'-nine tail your kirk did feel. 
An' noo I'll gie ye anither deal. 

A tithe no longer will thc}^ V^y, 

The times have changed I hear them sa_v; 

On Sunday a man can kiss his wife, 

And yet not fear he'll lose his life. 

Can split' his .wood aiid cut his hair, 

Is not obliged to attend prayer. 

O Lord! you're losing .ground 1 fear; 

The reign of man is very near. 

O Lord! send Death for Pagan Bob, 
And send hinl quick or he will rob 
The church of all its mystery, 
AVith must}^ ancient historj/. 
Pie does hear Oppression's groan — 
He does mock Deception's moan — 
, Bind him fast close by 3'onr throne, 
Place a guard around his scat. 
Watch him close, or he will beat 
The bottom out of Heaven and Hell! 
lie wdll break tlie holy spell. 
Priests will beg from door to door. 
As they oft have done before. 
Altars, Bibles, churches scorned, 




ANNA L. vSHAW 



PEN PICTURES. 97 

When the peoples all have learned; 
That ''Bob" tells the living truth, 
"Bob" is catching fast the 3^outh. 
Ruin's clutch is on our neck, 
"Bob" with haughtj^ pride does geek 
His head, and with derision smile; 
Holiness does weep meanwhile. 
Aye — Religion oft does weep. 
While Pagan "Bob" does sweetl^^ sleep. 
Thou must save, O Lord! our cause, 
For they do defy our laws. 
Thou a Saviour, now must be, 
Thjs fact surely you must see. 
Amen! Amen! 



THE LATEST FAD. 



^HE brides discard the big boquet, 

Arab! God's pra3^er-beuk carry, they; 
A fad in Matrimonj^'s pla3^. 

In Time's weird histor3'. 
Divorce comes in with cunning trick, 
The lasses ken his ways are slick, 
The^^ dub Divorce, a pawkie "Brick,' 
Brim full of mystery. 

As all thhigs are uncertain, they 
Are well prepared with book to pra\' 
I'm ver^^ sure 'tis Wisdom's wav, 

'Tis Evolution's plan. 
God no longer joins together, 
He ken's man will quickh' sever, 
Pennsylvania cuts the tether, 

AlaUe! away flies nmr»! 



98 PEN PICTURES. 




TO A. GASTON. 



ATE'S cuffed ye to a peak sae 1110113'- times, 

Thin as a match ye're getting; 
But what is to be, will be, man, 

Trowth! there's nae use in fretting. 
Theosophy says: — All things in life, 

Are for the good of man; 
It's in our "karma" — weel! jq ken, 

It's the universal plan. 

Ye rubbed agin Theosophy, 

I'm sure it was to be; 
And with her three-taed leister, man, 

Theosophy speared ye. 
But in it all, there's good — man, 

What is tae be, wdll be; 
Twa grit I Ams, met on the w^aj^. 

An' sure, they cudna 'gree. 

The crupper, loot it oot a notch. 

The check rein's a wee bit tight; 
Tak' aff the keekin'-straps 1100, 

Theosophy's all right. 
The threshing did the auld dame good, 

A lesson she has learned; 
Concentration lost the game. 

The loaded dice 3^e turned. 

But, Change is 011 the \\'D.y, aye! 
Change is dame Nature's plan; 



PEN PICTURES. 



99 



The iron ring will brak' yea I 

Ye glides! we canna stan' 
This ticht girt Plutoeracv, 

The win's are gathering Strang; 
A cj^clone will sweep through the Dale, 

An' wreck the throne o' Wrang-. 



TO LANCELOT. 



E'D like a plaee amang my stars, 
In my beuk o' rhymes, a page; 
Afore the fbotlichts, A^e'd appear, 

An actor on my stage. 
Mj^ roster is quite full, sir, 

My weel laid plans complete; 
Ye're welcome i' the audience, 
Wi' the beld-heids tak' a seat. 



QUOTATION. 




E love our fellowman, our kind. 

Wife, child and friend; 
To phantoms we are deaf and blind. 

But we extend 
The helping hand to the distressed. 
By lifting others we are blessed. 



i-ofC. 



100 PliN PICTURES. 



TO WILLIAM Mckinley. 



"I have always been in favor of the free and unlimited 
coinage of the silver product of the United States, and have 
so voted on at least two occasions." 

"You may remember as indicating my position on this 
subject, that I voted to pass the silver bill, in the Forty- 
fifth and Forty-sixth Congress, over the veto of President 
Ha3'es." 

William McKinley. 



^OR 3^cars 3'c've posed McKinley, 
' Honesty's chieftain brave; 

The grit Republican Mascot, 

The kintra ye coti'd save. 
Unmasked ye are McKinley, 
The gold-wash is too thin; 
The Silverites are after jq, 
They'll raise roun' ye a din. 

Weel masked ye thoclit yoursel', man, 

With sheeny robes of gold; 

Ye are a fly caught in the web, 

Y^e'U fin' the spiders bauld. 

Indelible, 3'our record, man, 

A Silverite ye stand; 

'Tis the clean part of your historj^ 

Noo, ye're versus, Bland. 

Cry 3^c may, "Out, damned spot, out!' 
The warl will hear an' woiidt-r; 



PEN PICTURES. 101 

An' whan they size yc np, "Mack," 
They'll say ye've made a blunder. 
The tiger eaniia change its stripes, 
Ye're a silver man the same; 
The one grit change the people see, 
Disgrace has scotched yonr name. 

He wha goes back on Principle, 

In search of \valth an' fame; 

Certain he is, McKinley, 

To black fair Honor's name. 

This pla3'ing loose an' fast. Mack, 

The "Confidence plot," grit glide! 

The Fates will speak frae judgment's throne, 

Hypoeracy — pass 'neath m\^ rod. 

We face a frightful crisis, 

Ye're a traitor to the people's cause; 

Ye ride on the golden juggernaut, 

That crushes with its python laws. 

Ignorance is deaf an' blind, 

But Wisdom is open-e^-ed; 

Ye're seen in Hypocrac3''s golden robe, 

Ye've a face for ilka side. 

The "Gold-bugs," pull the wires, Mack, 
Ye, Punch to Mark's Jud\- show. 
Silver men laugh to see ye dance. 
Yea, laugh for thej^ well know. 
That underneath 3'our golden robe, 
A silver man is hid; 
Temptation cuddles \^e weel, "Mack," 
Sac 3'e do as jq are bid. 

The Janus of 1896, 

On a well balanced pivot ye swing; 

Like the weather-cock that hings at the door, 

Ye perched on the Plutocrats wing; 



102 PEN PICTURES. 

Behind a golden dagger, pose, 
'Twill shield jq in the fight; 
But justice will o'ertak' 3^e, man, 
Ye'll fin' that micht's na right. 

Quay — Mark an' Piatt consign to H— 1, 

The golden parasites sla3^; 

Give Honor's men the chairs of State, 

For this the people pra3\ 

Honor's shield 3^e wear na, nae, 

Gold tipped frae heid to heel; 

The G. O. P. a gold plate trust, 

^J'he trade-mark clinched with, steal. 

Ye represent monoplies, 
The miclit^^ golden ring; 
Ye're the Judas of the century, 
Proof, your comrades bring. 
Spoken wards never die Mack, 
The "Bland Bill" ye maun face; 
Sold! sold! on the altar of gold. 
Trapped in the net of Disgrace. 

The "Silver Knisrht" the "Silver Knight.' 



ft' 



Truth's banners weaving high; 

The "Silver Knight" the "Silver Knight,'^ 

Confronts the Plutocrat's lie. 

The golden cloak, it fits ye w^cU, 

Aristocracy bows to thee; 

Gold makes the man, (a putty man,) 

(Na' God, 'twas "Mark," made ye.) 

It's tweedledee an' tweedledum. 

Anything to get there; 

Ye'll play the clown for Hanna, 

To w4n the President's Chair. 

But — when j^e perch upon that seat, 

Ye — the smallest man there yet; 



PEN PICTURES. 103 



A Squealin', squirmin' inonke\', 
Tethered in Hanna's net. 

Glide be wi' ye McKinle\% 
O' the Deil, ye'U hae your share: 
Ye'll mak' a totizhng mess o't, 
Cohimbia will want nac niair. 
Gin bluid disna rin, Mack, 
Afore your race is run; 
Then I am na prophet, man, 
With prophec3-, I'm done. 
March, 1895. 



A MESSAGE. 



ULD Grannie Lott is here to-daA^, 

A kecklin' 'boot her hoosc; 
She's in a bad worry, 

An' thinks she's played the goose. 
The gallery of art, is whare? 

Ye heed na her request; 
The vera deil is in it, 

The auld dame canna rest. 

Na paintings hing upon the walls, 

In her gallerj^ of art; 
An' na one thinks of Grannie Lott, 

Sair is the auld dame's heart. 
Of statuar3% just one piece, 

An' that is Night with Da3^; 
An' hoo the Day cam' in it— 

I've naething mair to sa\'. 

R. B. 



104 



PEN PICTURES. 



FASHIONABLY DRESSED. 




ERE I am! in Fashion's parlor, 

With Auld Dame Bnmcombee; 

Watching Fashion's ladies, wha are, 

Decked for men to see. 
I wonder! and I wonder! 

What their mothers are about! 
To dress their daughters in that way, 

And then — to send them out. 



Now — as I sit here in my chair. 

That's snug up in the corner; 
I spy, a richly dressed 3'oung lass, 

Her name, is Mollie Horner. 
She wears a dress, (or part of one,) 

Some parts, are surely missing; 
'Twas made to tempt some mother's son, 

(Mollie Fm sure likes kissing.) 

The dressmaker, (the careless dame,) 

Forgot the sleeves Fm sure; 
Or else she patterned after Eve, 

Naked she came, (yet pure.) 
Oh! Mollie' s arms are bare — as bare, 

As the wee bit babe new born; 
Bare arms some think attractive. 

Fashion's models they adorn. 



An' Mollie's neck's as white as snow, 
Ye gods! I mUvSt admire! 



PRN PICTURES. 10( 

And Mollie's charms arc fairer still, 
My pulse does bound \vith fire! 

Can I sit glum and moody here, 
And win na' luve's full share; 

With Mollie standing b3^ so near, 
So beautiful an' fair? 

Am I a man that courage lacks, 

A figure of dispair? 
Shall I sit here a mild buckwheat, 

A holding down this chair? 
With Nature's loveliness in view. 

Decked with such cunning art; 
Ah — no! young man, 3'our soul's ablaze. 

Look well, j^ou play 3'our part! 

Yea, in thy presence lovely lass. 

My j'-oung blood warms towards you; 
You have bewitched m3' very sold, 

Your glance has pierced me through. 
I'm sure 'tis folly to despair. 

So much in sight of man; 
To win 3^our love; Mollie dear! 

I'll do the best I can. 

MORAL. 

O mothers! ye who daughters have, 

Dress them with modest care; 
Lest with a tempting carelessness, 

They some young man ensnare. 
For love that's pure is never born, 

A slave to Passion's god; 
Such lives arc sealed, and feel Despair, 

W^ill beckon them aneath his rod. 

Nae woman half dressed wad appear, 
Gin nane but woman were there; 



106 PEN PICTURES. 



The men admire na, nakedness, 

Sae dress ye with grit care. 
Like Passion's cancan queans appear, 

Christians, with bosoms bare; 
Ye tempting Jads, — furl weel your flags! 

A challenije to men! Pd swear! 



TO D. B. MERRITT. 

Member ol the C. L. F. A. Board. 



t GANDER lone, 3^e wander roun, 
A bag of bones — grim; 
J Despondency^ 3^our shadow, man, 
^ A match-like wraith, tall, slim, 
And ghaist-like, cadaverous, — 
A skeleton with hollow e3'e; 
Cauld, clammed, shiggisli, stiff, 
Do 3^ou intend to die? 

The odd sheep on the noted ''Board," 

(Lily Dale's teeter, — yc know;) 
Slide down aniang the ither men, 

An' be ye nae sae slow. 
On the wrang end the "Board," jq sit, 

A sample, roostin' hie. 
A "Secretary," ye need, man, 

Ye'U beat Death on the sly. 



TEN PICTURES. 107 



TO BOSS PLATT. 



,ANWAR 1895, O Man! 

Ye canna sune forget; 

Auld Time did whatt his knife, 

Bluid he meant to let. 
Ye wore Polly Tick's hie eroun, 

But rust^^ it was getting; 
Sae Ma^^or Strang thocht it weel, 
To gie it a new settin'. 

"Micht is richt," has been the cry, 

Frae the Plattites to Tarn's vile den; 
Corruption's rottenness stenchcd the air, 

"Oot with it" raired honest men. 
Let Truth, Honor and Decency, 

Raise their voices hie; 
An' say by a' that's guid an' grit, 

This monstrosity maun die. 

Deil-ma-carc, tlicy faced the wiel. 

They thocht it clismaclavcr; 
An' tlio' thev saw the windy cluds, 

The\' thocht Tarn a guid driver. 
But, like Tam O' Shanter's auld mccrc Meg, 
The tiger has lost its tail; 

An' frae that bizzie citj-, 
I hear a maurnful wail. 

Down wV the one-man po\ver I sa^', 
Be it Piatt, a king or czar; 



108 PEN PlCTUREv^. 

Queen Yic, or Lil, or this or that, 

Justice's escutcheon they mar. 
Oppression's clankin' chain is heard, 

Their rotten thrones maun fall; 
An' the rich-red wine in their gowden caups, 

Will turn to bitter gall. 

The hale warl's in commotion, 

Politics, religion, an' a'; 
The banner o' Richt will gae oop, 

An' the red flag o' Micht maun fa'. 
Nero had his time ye ken, 

Constantine had the same; 
Time's Juggernaut is rolling on. 

Justice will bag the game. 

The peoples are waukening in this grit day, 

They are leukin' to left an' richt; 
Their leaders are watching weel the wa\^ 

They are nae far ahin' Truth's licht. 
Down with the ring-gang politicians, 

Gie us better laws, 
Micht's victims maun be delivered, 

Frae the vulture's claws. 

ADDENDUM. 

For the neist centurj^'s birth we wait, 

Fate is brewing the groanin' malt; 
The kebbuck waits upo' Time's shelf, 

Nane wi' sic cou'd fin' fault. 
The liowdie wi' a tass o' brand\', 

Waits the eventful time; 
Time's auld sexton wn' rape in han', 

The deid bell sune will chime. 



PEN PICTURES. 109 



TO JUDGE FARNUM, 

Wellsville, N. Y. 



N' sae ye are a farmer! 

Is there an Opp(tion) in the trade? 
' There's nae miickle siller in the "IdIz," 
Nae maseot, I'm afraid. 
Your farm is stocked with hogs, theysa}', 

Mark Hauna owns the "trust;" 
Whan he hears ye've joined his hog ring, 
He'll faint from sheer disgust. 

Mark Hanna owns the "Hog trust," 

In Washington, D. C; 
He's got them in a "corner," 

As 3'e will later see. 
He will not car them this year, 

He'll drive them with a gad, 
The yankee and the Irishman, 

Will fall in line "Be dad." 

There' naetbing like Mark Hanna's trust, 

The thievish hogs have stole; 
The right to root across the sea, 

Filipino sings sangs o' dole. 
It's powerful, this trust of hogs, 

Ye better sell yours man; 
Get shot o' those Spanish gruntcrs^ 

'Twill be the wisest plan. 



110 PEN PICTURES. 




FAULKNER JUNCTION. 



AITIN' at the station, 

Naetliing here to drink; 
Neither broo or bannoc, 

Losh! puir fare I think. 
Glide of mercy help us! 

Hoongr}' as a bear, 
Sic treatment b}'- the R. R. C. 

I'm sure it isna fair, 

Faulkner Junction — three railroads here, 

A switch pen and a shed; 
Would tae Gude the managers, 

Were here to-day unfed. 
Sitting on a hard bench, 

Waitin' the express; 
They'd damn the weather, damn the place, 

An' think it a pretty mess. 

In a private car the moguls ride. 

By niggers tlic\^ are fed; 
Imported wines, fresh fish, oysters. 

Sleep in a silken bed. 
Tae keep me company to-day, 

Those moguls — I wish were here; 
They'd tak Jthe fare o' puir folk. 

Ye bet your socks, they'd swear! 

Ye bet j-e'd hear those hie lairds rair. 
An tear 'roun' like mad men; 



, PEN PICTURES. Ill 

They'd order oop a big hotel, 

Wi' conveniences, I ken. 
An' object lesson they'd get toda3^ 

Wi' naething here tae eat; 
Con'd they be left here just one day, 
Tlie joke wad be complete. 
Dec. 8, 1S9S. 



TO APOLLO. 



WINXA sell my beuk, ye say< 

This, I heard 3^011 tell; 
A grit mistak' ye gar't man, 

That beuk is gaun to sell. 
I'll turn the search-licht on the camp, 

An' tell what spirits see; 
I thank ye for the spur \^e gave, 

Ye're a mascot, frien', to me. 

I travel with ye day an' nicht, 

Your towzling roun' I view; 
111 mon^^ wa\'s, we're much alike, 

We're brithers, I an' };ou. 
Ye till the soil an' seed the grun', 

My style ye hav, 'tis true; 
The implement 3'e use, man. 

Always, is na the jileugh. 

Trowth! I'll turn the search-licht on, 
Locate the puss hllcd sore; 

I'll operate on Lilv Dale, 
Remove the rotten core. 

She'll stand the operation well, 
Aly method ma3^ seem rough; 



112 



PEN- PICTURES. 



But damned be he who first cries, Hold! 
This operation's tough. 
April 20, 1900. 



TO MAURENE. 



V-L,AY ye always drink frae T/o'cs sweet caup, 
dinllll ^ ^^^^ ^' happiness may ye hae; 
s^Jrl| Burdened nae wi' want an' wae; 
" ' Luve, I wad never hae ye sigh, 
Expeckit rest Luve, by an' b3^ 



A' will be weel, 3'e hae nae cause to fret, 
Burns reads the future for ye weel; 
Evil is Argus-eyed, he winna sleep, 
Right, an ee on him will keep. 
July IG, 1S94.. 



APRIL IN LILY DALE. 



,AE lauger we sing o' the beautiful snaw. 
It's noo the caw of the auld black craw; 
The robin's convention, an' laverock's cry, 
The croaking frog in the lake close by. 
Oh! thv^ lake, the lake, the sun-kissed lake. 
The wijid-whippcd waves on the shore break. 
Fair Lily Dale is proud of her home, 
Her biggins are humble, nae palace or dome; 
But welcom' the guid folk, they'll sune return, 
Mon^^ a lesson the stranger will learn. 
Oor doors are open, cum in an' dine, 
Oor spiritual luve feast, isna bread an' wine. 



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PEN PICTURES. 113 



ir, 



BURNS' COTTAGE. 



, HOUGH Scotland boasts a thousand names, 

Of patriot, king and peer; 
The grandest, noblest of them all, 

Was loved and cradled here. 
Here lived the noble peasant-prince, 

The loving cotter king; 
Compared with whom the greatest lord. 

Is bitt a titled thing. 

'Tis but a cot, roofed in with straw, 

A hovel made of clay; 
One door shuts out the snow and storm, 

One w4ndow greets the day. 
And yet, I stand within this room. 

And hold all thrones in scorn; 
For here beneath this lowly thatch, 

Love's sweetest bard was born. 

Within this hallowed hut I feel. 

Like one who clasps a shrine; 
When the glad lips at last have touched, 

The something seemed divine. 
And here the world through all the A'cars, 

As long as day returns; 
The tribute of its love and tears. 

Shall pay to Robert Burns. 
Aug. 19, 187S. RoBEKT G. Inoersoll. 



114 PEN PICTURES. 




TO COL. ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. 



YE agnostic! take time an reason, 
Otherwise to do, wad be treason. 
Richt weel 3^e ken, jq lo'e tlie truth. 
Ye hae niuckle interest in the 3'outh. 
Investigate afore ye dee. 
Then, 3'e will believe in me. 

A' richt's j^our wark, yea, 'tis weel done; 
Ye dematerialized, Gude, Father, Son. 
The tales ye tatild in richt guid stjde, 
Trowth! man, jq rile the kirk-man's bile. 
Ye hit the bull's ee with j^our shell. 
Ye wrecked the holds o' Heaven an' Hell. 

Ganging oot, the Orthodox fire, 
Ye mak' the creedal gods transpire; 
With Miracles ye play the scout, 
Mony are catching the spirit o' Doubt; 
With Wisdom's ee-glass, they scan the field. 
The wraith, the kirk-men try to shield. 
A Spartan, Robert, the slogan ye gie! 
In the castle o' fame, j^our name will lee. 

Nae man, nae man, 3'our place can fill. 
Liberty's Savior, 3^e wark with a will; 
Gie them ward pictures, object lessons, ye ken. 
Are guid for the bairns, an' guid for auld men. 
Ye can mak' the deaf hear, an' mak' the blin' 
see, 




PEN PICTURES. 115 

Blessiu's on your pow Robin', I'm warkin' wi' 

ye. 
Ye needna a stanc to speik o' your name, 
'TIs indelibly writ in the grit hoose o' Fame. 



TO ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. 

On the Lecture at Lily Dale July 12, 1896. 



■^ RIT gude! Rab, I am confounded! 
Muckle surprised, hech! astounded! 
Your lecture, man, was auld an' rusty, 
Sae vera auld I'rh sure 'twas must3\ 
Twa an' twenty years ago. 
Ye gied the same, as all folks know. 

Puir Lily Dale was disappointed, 

She thocht by Inspiration to be annointed; 

But stale an' flat that lecture auld, 

Lilj^ Dale I'm sure was sold. 

Eight hunder an' fiftj^-eight, they sa}', 

For that auld lecture, ye got that da^^ 

Excuse my thochts, excuse mj- words, 
Mentalh^ we maun cross swords; 
To fule the guid folk like that, man. 
It seems to me an unwise plan. 
Eight hunder and fift\'-eight, they say. 
For that auld lecture ye gat that da3\ 

Frae far an' near the guid folk came, 
To see an' hear the man of fame. 
Anticipation craved something fresh. 
Poured out in volumes with a gush; 



116 PEN PICTURES. 

Like a rairin' cataract, astounding all, 
It relislied as a caup o' gall. 

Oopside doun, your barrel ye turned, 
Frae the Mess John this ye learned; 
Laugh nae mair at them, my man, 
While ye adopt the Mess John's plan. 
Lily Dale is oop-to-date, 
Ye ca'd on her, frien' Rob, too late. 

Ye're sae far ahint the time. 

That 3^our talk's nae worth a dime; 

Spiritism laughs at ye, 

Puir blin' Rab, ye canna see! 

With mouldy bread an' dry stale cheese. 

The epicure ye canna please. 

PVien', tak' my cue, an' cum agen, 

Gae sit amang the listening men; 

Watch well the w^ards o' Lockwood, Lake, 

The spirit thocht ye better take. 

A ghaist o' past daj^s, sure yc be, 

Eild and beld, 3^e are I see. 

Ye wha gie us Alaterialism — 
Y^e wha sniff at Spiritism ~ 
Ye wdia tell the lads na to pay. 
The meinester — this ye saj', 
Grit gude! Rab, $858, 
For an auld lecture, oot o' date. 

A thief, Rab, I'll na ca' you, 

But, a ''Gold Bug," that is true. 

Truth is your idol, Gold your God! 

Time wall suue sae, pass 'neath my rod; 

Open, a new warl will to ye, 

TU^ truth o' Spiritism, then yc'll see. 



TEN PICTURES. ii7 

Scotched with Scotch, 1 have gien \^e a blaw, 

Ye weel deserve it as ye knaw; 

Sold yourself to Greed an Gain — 

Posed ye then on Mammon's plane. 

I faught for the puir, in Scotland, my hame, 

I stood for richt, I won honor an' fame. 

The war of the classes is waging again, 
Gold against labor, true it is frien'; 
Frae wrang conditions the guid folk are 

crazed. 
They're watching the "Gold Bugs," sure they're 

amazed! 
Oh! ye'U sune hear the slogan, a Wallace will 

rise. 
Reincarnated in Bryan, he'll gie a surprise. 



TO J. R. FRANCIS. 



OME twa-three years ago fricn', 

A message I wrote for ye; 

My wee bit Lady said: "Rab, 

Your name he winua see." 

I tried wecl all the luver's arts, 

(Ye ken I'm guid at that;) 
But ilka time I failed, frien', 
My weel laid plans' fell flat. 



My first was scattered to the win's, 
The neist scorched in the fire; 

My bonnie Lady said to me, 
Gae back to your heavenly choir, 

Gae fin' your Mary, gae fin' your Jean, 
Ye are na luver o' mine; 



118 PEN PICTURES. 

Your luve is like the fickle win', 
1 catena for tliat kin'. 

But patience won the victory, 

I stuck like Spaulding's glue; 
I swore b\^ clay, I swore b\' night, 

To her I wad be true. 
That gin she'd w^rite my messages. 

My Scottish rhymes wad save; 
Sae lang as she suld lee, \^ea! 

Rob Burns wad be her slave. 

On the spur of the moment I write. 

Like unto the lang ago; 
Of this an' that an' the ither. 

Of things \'e all weel know. 
True to mj^ nature I hit the mark, 

I read with the e3^e of a seer; 
I say what I think to all mankin'. 

An' naebody do I fear. 

Gin 3^e are guid, kin', true to all. 

An' do the best ye can; 
Gin honor's law jq dinna brak'. 

By sic as ye I'll stan'. 
An' tho' ye're puir as ony mouse. 

Your breeks wnth age are gra3'; 
I'll watch \'our flock and guard it weel, 

Prosperit\^ I'll sen' A^our wa3^ 

We're keepin' a beuk o' record, 

I'm Auld Nick's secretar}'; 
He's president of the stock -yards, 

Hutch, Yanderbilt, Gould (an' me — ) 
Weel! I am one of the chosen few. 

The firm has gien a job; 
I run the train from Earth to Hell, 

Ower the rout this morn went "Bob." 



PEN PICTURES. Ii9 

At the demarkation line he met, 

Servetus, Bruno and Paine; 
Luther, Voltaire, Monroe, Hugo, 

Washington, Lincoln, the brain. 
The soul, the nerve, the force. 

That gave birth to the era of man; 
The grit powers of revolution, 

"Bob" joined Evolution's van. 

Oh! Robert's frien's were leal, aye! 

The3^ met him with the biggest band; 
An' such a halleluiah — Losh! 

Auld Nickie Ben sheuk his hand. 
Papes an' priests an' saunts w^ere there, 

Gude! there never w^as such a time! 
They voted me poet laureate, 

An' asked me to pat it in rhyme. 

Weel! "Bob" is tdkin' a rest noo, 

AVe gied him the saftest chair; 
It's all a fake his cumin' to earth, 

He's nae said a ward, I'd swear! 
'Twill be a lang time afore he talks, 

He'll hunt aroun' for his kin'; 
A lassie wdth fire an' pluck an push, 

That's reads alang Truth's line. 

Nae! he didn't speak at the Zoo Park, 

'Twas a monkey pat up the job; 
An' didn't the fools play fools i' the farce? 

But they were na up to "Bob!" 
He w^as nae liar, an' he hates a sell. 

An' Fraud is Miracle's trick; 
Clairvoyance saj-s: I see na "Bob" 

Your Robert, is Fraud's ain "Brick." 



120 PEN PICTURES. 



A COMPARISON. 



APPHO, songstress of the Muses, 
Harmony's goddess fair; 
^^ Born in the sixth century, B. C, 
Left in the Muses' care. 

Sappho, Socrates, Plato, 
Born of woman and man; 

Conceived thro' Nature's master law, 
Materialized thro' Nature's plan. 

A trinitj^ of soul power, 

Evoluted from the great unknown; 
Brilliant stars on the mental plane, 

The world their field and throne. 

Christ, conceived by God, (they say,) 
The equal of those, was not; 

Inferior to many who lived and died, 
A strange fact, I wot. 

Christ, (a man,) God and the Ghost, 
What a figure these three have cut! 

An ocean of blood has been shed. 
By the 1 3' rants of faith, I wot. 



PEN PICTURES. 121 



TO SENOR DE LOME. 



CARE na for Spain, I care na for yc, 

Seuor De Lome, nae! nae! 
There's grit injustice niang your folk, 

A tragedy ye pla3^ 
P'^air Cuba needs a rest, Senor, 

Frae murder an' frae strife; 
She's gaun to cut the tether, 
De Lome, ye bet your life. 

The Spanish bluid is het, man, 

Spain's sons are bauld and bad; 
Ye act like beasts, Senor De Lome, 

Like hungry tykes gaen mad. 
Auld England's Queen sits on her throne. 

An' smiling views it all; 
The royal queen of queens, perched high, 

Hears na her sister's call. 

Ha! France, auld France — Politeness' wean! 

Weel fed \vith buttered bread; 
She reads about the wounded men. 

The starving, dying, dead! 
'Bout Dre\'fus, the Jew, she's thinking, 

Esterhaz}', Zola, Pellieux, that row; 
The warl seems in a tousie muss, 

Oopside down I wow! 

The reichstag and diet. Count Posadowskj^'g 
menu. 



122 PEN PICTURES. 

An indigestible feast; 
The proudest nation in the warld, 

But, corrupt to say the least. 
Prince Bismark's foreign policy, 

The young sprigs are aping; 
Baron Von Buelow's regimen, 

Bismark's views he's shaping, 

Herr Richtcr, Herr Bebel, Vorwaerts, 

Watching the puir man's bread; 
The Emperor — a blac-bluid barnacle, 

Mair needna be said. 
The Powers resting on their arms, 

Some one maun catch the cue; 
'Tis time a halt was called, De Lome, 

We speak to Sjoain thro' you. 

Auld Uncle Sam, has fooled wi' ye, 

Monke^^ed roun' too lang; 
Ye've cut an' slashed, j^our pirate wark, 

Ye ken is very wrang. 
Ye've gat 3^our passport noo, De Lome, 

Ye're ganging hanie to sta^^; 
I've a ward to gie ye, frien' De Lome, 

There something I maun say. 

Ye spak' unkindl3- o' McKinlc}^ — 

Mark Hanna's tool, alas! 
Sae wi' your passports — tykes an' bairns, 

Oot o' this kintra ye pass. 
Ha! ha! mony a man is laughing. 

We laugh, an' smile an' laugh; 
The insult is a comic farce. 

It micht weel pass for chaff. 

Gin ever man telt the truth, 
'Twas vou, De Lome, 'twas you; 



PEN PICTURES. 123 

Cheer oop, greet na, greet iia, Senor, 

The play is na yet through. 
Treachery met Honor face to face, 

Played thief with diel-ma-care; 
O Treachery! hide your face, for shame! 

Honor bids you beware. 

Your "Jingoism" an' that an' that, 

Was vera weel pat in; 
Considering the opinions of the Americans, 

You spread it vera thin. 
Whan the "Powers" view Mark Hanna's man, 

And think what might be said; 
To raise this bleezin' blaw, De Lome, 

It really seems ill bred. 

''Those friendly relations,'" weel! weel! 

Pluto on his throne wad smile; 
Donsie is bauld Hypocrisj^, 

It beats auld Nick's ain st\de. 
Honesty is the best polic}^, yea! 3'ca! 

In war or peace, deal sc[uare; 
The stealin o' a wee bit letter, 

Sure it wasna fair. 

On his dignity is the "Little man," 

Weel poised I'm sure he thinks; 
The auld beld eagle, laughs an' laughs, 

Flaps his wings, nods and blinks. 
Liberty's goddess finds nae rest, 

She's playing now^ the scout; 
She is watching, she is watching. 

For a Spanish squall, nae doubt. 

The kintra's honor, (William an' Hanna,) 
"The Administration, w^e maun sustain." 

For this, an' that an' the ither, 
\^e maim gae, ye'U nae remain. 



124 PEN nCTURES. 

Your sea Lid was nae thing, naething, 
Sae maurn na, greet na, De Lome; 

Renown ye'll win frae tliis — man, 
With Dame Future, change will come. 

Just think o' all those "ciphers," 

Those cablegrams, frae ower the sea! 
Frae Woodford ower in Madrid, 

An' those frae Fits Hugh Lee. 
Wha kens what they are doing. 

What those mystic ciphers mean? 
Those micht out-do your "jingoism," 

Cut a muckle figure, I ween. 

They micht get their passports, Senor, 

Gin there was any way. 
To figure out the meanin' 

An publish what they say. 
"Olympus and Ossa upon Pelion piled, 

Ye shall have no gods but mcl 
Feasting upon ambrosia and nectar, 

This, all men can see. 

The insult is to Jupiter (The Ohio god,) 

The monumental god has frowned; 
That's the reason, the true reason, 

That you, De Lome, are dowmed. 
Jupiter, chief of all the gods. 

Ye maun bow to the tyrant's wall; 
Cccsar like, he w^aved his wand, 

Down, Dons! peace, be still! 
Austin, Minn., Feb. 17, 1898. 



PEN PICTURES. i2{ 



A SCRAP FROM A LETTER. 



K NEEL nae to Earth's flesh-pats, nae! 
The ph3^sical reigns supreme; 
Buckle tight your armor, yQal 

Mill' ua Deception' dream. 
Whan the physical has tint its power, 

Stagnation then will reign; 
That is the time — that is the time, 
The saul is hlled with pain. 



Mental attraction brightens with age, 

It glows with a living fire; 
Ay— the inspiration comes, man, 

From a higher power. 
The garden of Thought is ever in bloom , 

Loveh^ is the garden of Age; 
An' ilka day a new poem, 

Is written on Life's page. 



QUOTATION. 



if 




URNS o'er the plough, 

Sung sweet his wood notes wild; 
And richest Shakspeare, 
Was a poor man's child. 



126 



PEN PICTURES. 



THE SOLILOQUY. OF A MOUSE. 



-^^ OMETHING to eat, something to eat, 

1 heard a wee mouse say; 
Somsthnig to eat, something to eat. 

The lacU'- is awa\'. 
She's gaen oot for the evenin', 

To cat eh a waft' o' win'; 
Caller hiney, just frae the byke, 

Stealin' is nae sin. 

Something to eat, something to eat, 

Gray -back kens na I'm here; 
Something to eat, something to eat— 

He ea's me his wee braw dear. 
But gray-back aft forgets his weans. 

Pie gaes touslin' roun' somewhere'; 
An' leaves mc with my bairnies three, 

He disna for them care. 

Something to eat, something to eat, 

I winna loot them starve: 
Something to eat, something to eat, 

I wiss that I could carve 
A wee bit slice frae this fat cheese, 

To carry to little squeak; 
Losh! here's a bottle o' bluid-red wine, 

But a' ni}' packets leak. 



Something to eat, something to eat, 
Oh! here's the Sunday cake! 



PEN PICTURES. 127 

My puir wcc braw bairn ics three, 

A slice to each I'll take. 
Something to eat, something to eat, 

Here's a wee bit jell; 
"In Gude an' the kirk, I pat my trust," 

Gin I steal, wha will tell? 

Something to eat, something to eat, 

Here's the cracker bag; 
Something to eat, something to eat. 

My gra3'-back is a wag. 
I wonner gif the Lady's laird, 

Staps oot till dawn o' day; 
I wonner gif she greets a' nicht, 

An' whatna does she say. 

Something to eat, something to eat, 

Yv'hat's the diflference 'twixt men an' mice? 
Something to eat, something to eat. 

Ye ken, baith hae their price. 
Lairds an' gray-backs steal awa', 

Are afttimes fand tmtrue; 
Lady Grace, and' Lady Mouse, 

Sick at heart an' blue. 

Something to eat, something to cat. 

The rich maun feed the puir; 
Something to eat, something to cat, 

I heard the snick o' the doorl 
To my wee legs 1 maun tak', 

An' leuk weel for the cat; 
Whan mae Lady sees the cake an cheese, 

She'll swear it was a rat. 



128 PEN PICTURES. 



THE SCOTCH THISTLE. 



HARACTERISTIC of the Scotch— 

The story that I tell; 
'Twas many years ago, 

In the Ian' where Scotchmen dwell. 
The Danes cam' prowlin' ronn' oor way, 

Cautiously at nicht; 
The Scots skip weel, with conscience clear, 

A Scotchman is a' richt. 

Barefooted were the 'savage Danes, 
To the Scotch camp close were they; 

Stealthily they crept alang, 
Naethin' aroun' to flcy. 

Whan flat iipo' a Scotch thistle, 
'Ane j3at his braid -bare foot, 

I canna gie the Danish ward. 
But in German 'tis, mein gott! 

His skreighs waukened ilka Scott, 

They fell upo' the fae; 
An' thase who werna fand deid, 

Teuk their hameward way. 
An' the tell-tale Scotch thistle, 

Quick cam' into renown; 
'Tis noo the flower o' Scotland, 

In city, hamlet, town. 




JENNIE B. HAGAN JACKSON. 



PEN PICTURES. 129 




TO JENNIE HAGAN JACKSON. 



ESIDE m\' chimne^v neuk of ease, 

I sit this wintry day; 
An' croon a Scottish lullab}', 

To while the time away. 
The dear auld lake is white wi' snaw, 

A meadow it micht seem; 
Sae, weel I ken what flows aneath, 

'Tis real, 'tis na a dream. 

I ruminate wi' sober thocht, 

On mony things I ponder; 
Of the glad new day, the j^et-to-be, 

An' I wonner, Jean I wonner! 
What will the hairst be? Oh Jean! 

'Tis mair than the gods can sa\'; 
A slumbering Vesuvius is 'neath it all, 

'Twill burn red-het some day. 

Like the fires of hell 'twill bleeze, Jean, 

An' money will scorch in the flames; 
The flesh, the banes, they winna burn. 

But the smeek will blacken names. 
Sin is a breeder of families, 

A breeder of curses het; 
The hairst o' sin, is a hairst o' weeds, 

Chafl" is the bread they get. 

Ye'll view it all, some sad day, Jean, 
Ye'll mourn for the sins o'men; 



130 PEN PICTURES. 

Ye'll extend the han' o' pity, 

Ye'll shaw j^oursel' a frien'. 
Ye'll hear the fateful slogan, Jean, 

As the thunders of Truth roll b}'; 
An' the lightning flash of Justice— 

Ye'll hear a niaurnful cr\\ 

"O Gude let the mountains full on me, 

Let the cauld earth hide mj^ face; 
Into the wiel o' Greed I plunged, 

I wallow in filth's disgrace. 
Hypocrisy has crouned me king, 

An' mouA' a hizzie is quean;" 
The Deil will hae his ain i' the end, 

He never fails, I ween. 

The gudes are makin' a big stout broom, 

The deck they're gaun tae sweep; 
An' the cleanin' oop in that grit day — 

Losh! mony wi' joy will weep. . 
It's ainly a question of time, Jean, 

The black sheep we'll corral wi' care; 
An' the clean, white sheep, weel housed an' fed, 

Our broo wi' them we'll share. 

Ye fear na hell or the hangman's whip. 

Ye can keep yoursel' in order; 
Whan yt feel j^our honor grip, 

Ye ken that is your border. 
Your guides are Prudence, Honor, Truth. 

They are father, mither, adviser; 
Oh! listen tae them bonnie Jean, 

An' ilk day, ye'll graw wiser. 

'Twas fair July, whan ye I met, 

We chatted lang thegither; 
The siller moon was on the lake, 

An' beautiful the weather. 



PEN PICTURES. 131 

It was a nicht for luvers, Jean, 

I pla_ved the luver tae ^^e; 
''J\vas auld business wi' me, Jean, 

Ye ken, we did agree. 

Lang past the midnight hour, Jean, 

Time, we heeded not; 
The street lamps blinked themselves tae sleep, 

Tired o' watching, I wot. 
The big eyed howlet in the trees, 

Cried oot the hour is one; 
An' the fish in the lake leaped oop tae see, 

The cause of the chatter an' fun. 

Ye tald me, Jean, o' the dear auld hame, 

My Scotch hame o'er the sea; 
An' ye bro't me a wee bit plant, Jean", 

'Twas vera kin' o' ye. 
A wee bit plant frae my garden, Jean, 

'Twas a compliment to me; 
I promised ye then an' there, Jean, 

A rh^'me to jq I'd gie. 

O bonnie JeanI dear lassie JeanI 

Changes will come to ye; 
Neath the winter's cauld glintin' sinn, 

There's a darklin' clud for thee. 
The win's o' Fate will blaw a gale, 

Y^'U reef 3'our sails, my Jean; 
A Strang han' hands the helm, Jean, 

The harbor ye'U reach, I ween. 

The licht-hoose isna far awa'. 
The lamps are trimmed an' burnin'. 

The captain ken's the rocky shore, 
Roun' the reefs ye'll sune be turnin'. 

He'll bear you thro' the maddened waves, 
With garments clean an' dry; 



132 PEN PICTURES. 

Ye'U furl your sails, my bonnie Jean, 
Your colors ye'U loot fly. 

Bide a wee, bide a wee, 

Time will tell it a'; 
Ye'U plank a new bridge, Jean, 

A bridge that isna sma'. 
A modern bridge, a spiritual bridge. 

That spg.ns a chasm deep; 
Ye're gaun to scale Truth's mountain. 

It's hie an' vera steep. 

Mair I winna tell ye noo, 

I'm sure 'twad na be richt; 
But a flamin' torch ye'll bear, Jean, 

Sweet-heart, fear na the nicht. 
Some day I'll ca' your way, Jean, 

An' gie ye a helpin' han'. 
The picture will be cumin', Jean, 

The gift o' the artist man. 

Gang your gait, mae bonnie Jean, 

Ye'll tak' a han' i' the fray; 
Ye're paving the raid for the cumin' weans, 

Oot in the future day. 
It's drap the curtain today, Jean, 

A new act comes on the morrow; 
Auld actors gae an the wee bairns cum, 

Life's play is joy an sorrow. 

Oh! this is a beautiful day, Jean, 

Wha daurna speik the truth? 
There's na strap roun' your neck, Jean, 

Ye bear in your arms sweet youth. 
Ye a goddess, my ain dear lass, 

The poets bow at your shrine; 
The Muses nine, gie ye harmony, 

To the saul, 'tis bread an' wine. 
Nov. 1898. R. B. 



PEN PICTURES. 133 



TO THANKFUL GASTON. 



PROMISED ye, dear Ladye, 

A ward I'd gie to ye; 
I see ye are expecting, 
A few lines frae me. 
Ye have been faithful, lady, 
Tae all the warl, 'tis true; 
But the warl has gaen agley, 
Sae aften, frien', with you. 

Weeds an' thistles, ye have plucked, 

Lang your way they grew; 
Ye have tired o' the task, 

Aften ye've been blue. 
Despondency has crushed your soul, 

But Patience the smart did heal; 
A soothin' balm she gave tae ye, 

An' said: All will be weel. 

Thankful bj^ name and nature. 

Ye ken, I am nae guessin'; 
Thankful ye hae been. Thankful, 

Thankful for ilka blessin'. 
Trouble has gien ye mon^^ a bhght. 

Oh! ye were brave and true! 
A gowden hairst, yd sail cum. 

Treasures we'll gie to 3'ou. 

A refiner, — Sorrow, aye! 
In her fire tried, ye are; 



134. PEN PICTURES. 

Ye, climbing the heiohts to Sonl-Land, 

Guided by Truth's bright star. 
Girded roun' b_y Patience's arm, 

Ye are a shinin' licht; 
Ye keenly sense the wrang, Ladye, 

An' seek the raid that's richt. 

Freedom mates na with Oppression, 

Oppression is a canker-worm; 
But Richt will down Oppression, 

The win's will bring the storm; 
The cluds are gathering darkh', 

The lightning's flash I see; 
The thunders rair in the distance, 

Muckle it means to ye. 

Time's treacherous tide has brought 3^e, 

Burdens heavy to bear; 
An' 3'e hae aften thocht, Lad3^e, 

P'ate tae 3'e wasna fair. 
To loft3^ heights 3'our soul soars. 

In spiritual realms 3'e lee; 
Development came with suftcring, 

Ladve, 3'e l)ear the gree. 

Whan the white-caps rolled, an' rough life's sea, 

An' the ship creaked in ilka seam; 
Then the angel said: "Peace, be still!"' 

Thev came in mon3' a dream. 
Hope bade ye, to the mast, haud fast, ■ - 

Oh! 3'e faced the pelting hail; 
But often the gude o' the win's heard, 

Frae 3'our saul a maurnful wail. 

In F'ortune's cup I'll leuk, Lad3'e, 

An' see what's there for thee; 
An' gin I fin', Anne Boleyn, 

I'll quickly tell it 3'e. 



PExN PICTURES. 135 

An' I will wliatt auld Death's red knife, 

An' bluid I'll surel}^ let; 
As inquisitor, I'll plan the job, 

'Twill be weel done, ye bet. 

Ye sit b3^ the ingle-low an' muse. 

Of the guid time lang ago; 
Ye sit by the ingle-low an' dream, 

Day-dreams that nane can know. 
On your hearth a bog of peat may burn, 

Bogs, bleeze, an' smudge, an' reek; 
Your een are sair, an' blind, an' all, 

With the n'ast\' black sraeek. 

'Tis a lang raid that has nae end. 

An' ye hae traveled far; 
Weary, discouraged, worn, 

Alake! dim is 3'our night star. 
Btit Heaven's morning star will rise. 

It gleams with Hope's bright light; 
I'll lead thee, Lad3'e, lead thee, 

Out of Despair's grim night. 

Hand to Patience, Lad\'e mine, 

Time will answer your prayer; 
There's rest an' happiness for all, 

Gather in your share. 
I'll gie ye sunshine, Ladye, 

I'll gie \'e Love's sweet rest; 
Contentment 3^et will come to a'Ou, 

Believe all's for the best, 

Bide a wee, bide a wee, 

Hope's rainbow I will bring; 
Sadness I will tak' awa', 

O Thankful! ye will sing. 
Change is nature's law ye ken, 

I'll ring the changes for thee; 



136 PEN PICTURES. 

There's a rift in the mirky clud, 
There's a siller lining for ve. 



TO MALABECCO. 



OU are an inspiration, man, 
You've helped along my poet's plan; 
The things m\^ Ladj^ would not write, 
She now is willing to indite. 

Discouragement 3'ou gave to her, 

I listened, but did not demur; 

Fair April's comments you inspire, 
There's mony from them will transpire; 

My lyddite shell, draps in that nest. 

To smeek 3'e oot, I thocht it best. 

Please tax, (with all the rest ye've gat) 
A monkey with the auld Tom Cat. 

The privileges are on one side. 

In telling this I tak' much pride. 
Rob Burns is in it as you see, 
M}^ compliments I sen' to ye. 
April 20, 1900. 



A QUATRAIN. 



ATURE'S demands, checkmated bv man's law; 
Nature introverted, perverted, ayl 
Stagnation, with miasmic brain an' maw, 
Sa^^s: Disease's victim gies man's law the lie. 



PEN PICTURES. 137 



KIPLING'S MUSE. 



What has become of Kipling's fighting Muse? Has the fickle 
jade deserted him in his hour of need, after the manner of 
femininity in general? — Dr. Crandall. 

,0\ no! she's not a fickle jade, 

She'll not desert her lover; 
She's skirmishing 'round a wee bit, 

Planning a cunning maneuver. 
She's with the convocation of Muses 

That meet in Washington, D. C. 
She's a guest of Liberty's goddess. 

In this land of the free. 

There's a big convention in Washington, 

The Muses met on the sly; 
Republican saints they're watching, 

Who'll fight Roberts by and by. 
Kipling's Muse is noting the morals 

Of Republican Congressmen; 
Time's record book is open, 

And she'll use her Poet's pen. 

Those special lady friends, 

Oh! a special lady friend! 
And the female private secretaries. 

Of these there is no end. 
It's all the rage, the blazing rage, 

A female sec-re-ta-ree. 
In your office and j^ou business-house, 

That is what we see. 



138 PEN PICtURES. 

You'll find them down in Washington, 

Stylish, pert and prett}^; 
Fascinating — a witch like Circe! 

Blushing, shy and witty. 
Boarding at first-class hotels, 

Congressmen's lady friends; 
They own "the hale blooming business," 

It with law and order blends. 

Those Congressmen, oh! those Congressmen! 

With their petitions long; 
And their sanctimonious faces! 

Oh! they never did a wrong! 
Adulter}^! Cohabitation! 

Oh! those fellows are mildh^ meek! 
They drink to Virtue in reaming swats 

Then — that lad\^ friend they seek. 

In those petitions; Pollution's stench, 

Would make Virtue hold her nose; 
In those petitions, Hj^pocris^^ 

A model seems to pose. 
The greatest farce of all, as ^^et, 

The world will laugh I'm sure; 
At the cheek, and gall and brass, 

Of those Congressmen so pure. 

Let them call in their children, 

And give theiu a father's name; 
Waifs on the streets, and foundlings, 

Belong to those men of fame. 
God of Mercy! soften their hearts. 

Tear off shame's dirty mask! 
Then renovate — regenerate, 

Law will evade this task. 

I favor not polygamy-. 
But 'tis God's holy law; 



PEN PICTURES. 139 

The Bible teaches polygamy, 

Here — freedom's line I draw. 
I do believe in Liberty, 

A law ridden nation — we; 
Freedom gagged — Liber t\- crushed! 

That, the gods can see. 

Law is the holy inquisitor, 

T\'rants sit on the throne; 
Slaves mind the whip-man's lash, 

Law owns a heart of stone. 
Law's aristocrats and plutocrats 

Are monopolists of high rank. 
They are the honored, titled gods; 

Law at those lairds does blink. 
Jan . 5, 1900. 



ACROSTIC. 



EAR Sir: Your Open Court is filled with treasures 
rare, 
Reason sits upon her throne, her edicts are fair; 
Pons Asinorum, where priests take toll, blocks 
3' our way, 
A constellation has turned the Christian night to 

da3^ 
Uriel thou art, in this constellation bright, 
Light and truth — 3'ou do not teach that might is 
right. 

Court of Truth, where all may see and hear, 
And bring to light m\'ths and fables without fear. 
Reason vs Rome, in 3'our court will have fair pla3% 
Una and her knight, will, the dragon 
Superstition sla3'. 



140 PEN PICTURES. 



TO SENATOR RAWLINS. 



Senator Rawlin's Defence of Brigham H. Roberts: "Not the 
only poljgamist holding office today; President McKinley 
has appointed Mormons." 

^ ICHT ye are, man, ye've struck the gong, 
Ye've hit the bull's-eye, sure; 
Investigation will clean the well, 
The festering sair will cure. 

Utah, the braw lass, Utah, 

Justice for ye bauds court; 
Bring in Robert's accusers, 

We'll have a wee bit sport. 

New York, take the witness stand. 
How mony Congressmen hae you? 

An' how mony wives has ilka man? 
(I mean lassies, leal an true.) 

The marriage ceremony is nocht, 

Helen Gould may find this out; 
Ye canna fight the ways o' men. 

Checkmated is Law, na doubt. 

Wife No. I, an early luve, 

May be for gold he wed; 
He's housed an' claithed like a poodle clog. 

He gets his broo an' bed. 



PEN PICTURES. 141 

A second edition, wife No. II, 

Luve is spontaneous ye ken; 
Micht as well dam a cataract, 

As stop the luve o' men. 

Wife No. Ill is fresh an' gay. 

Confounding ties, ye see; 
Vibrations change with the surging tide, 

Scientist an' I agree. 

It's all on account of environment, 

Or the treacherous, fickle stars; 
There's always a tulzie fyke — a muss. 

When Jupiter meets auld Mars. 

Wife No. I is chilled with age. 

Rust and mould set in; 
Wife No. II, a back number. 

Wife No. Ill bhnks at sin. 

"The hale bloomin' business," is a man made 
law, 

Right here in the land of the free; 
What's the matter with Roberts, 

Gin he has sax wives or three. 

Ye'U fin' the Senate an' House crammed full 

Of men, with wives mair'n one; 
The spirits, an bogles, an fairies laugh, 

Auld Nick enjoys the fun. 

Roberts says: "These are my wives, 

'Tis true, I own the corn; 
I think I'm right, I luve them all, 

Freedom, a slave's na born." 

Maine, Wisconsin, Minnesota, 
Lads, what hae ve to say? 



142 PEN PICTUEES. 

"Your Honorable MajestA', we follow the 
fashion, 
Private secretaries we paj'." 

Women Secretaries are all the fad, 

Dame Law a back seat takes; 
Honor pats Roberts on the back, 

An' frowns upon Law's rakes, 

Roberts claise an' feeds his bairns, 
Gies a faither's protection an' name; 

While mony a Congressman's bastard, 
]s mothered b}- Grief and Shame. 

Seduction, the Congressman's wily art, 

Abortion, mon\^ a wean slab's; 
Doctors (murderers) — fiends do this work. 

The Congressmen the lang bill pays. 

Then, ye daur talk of adultery, 
A'e felon's frae crime's black pit! 

Ca' in \^our illegitimate weans, 
At your table let them sit! 

Be honest and manh', and say the^^ are mine, 
And treat them as a faither should; 

Ye cowards! traitors! conspirators! 
Your hypocrisy is weel understood! 

I am nae polygamist — nae! 

But pat maun call kettle black; 
The Congressmen posing as Innocence, 

These Congressmen common sense lack. 
Dec. 10, 1899. 



PEN PICTURES. 143 



TO JENNIE HAGAN JACKSON. 



,HAT name is vera dear to me, 

Jean, my lassie Jean; 
' The story isna new to ye, 
Ye ken her weel, I ween. 
As the magnet to the steel, ay, 

Sae Jean was leal to me; 
Frae first to last, her lo'e was mine, 
The kin' o' lo'e that's free. 

Oor Jean, we ca' ye, bonnie Jean, 

Oor sonsie queen, jq are; 
I am your ain leal frien' Jean, 

The play ye yet will star. 
In a snaw-drift cauld, banked ye were. 

An' froze for mony a year; 
I've stude by 3'e mony a niclit. 

An' wiped the scaldin' tear. 

Oh! the after-glow of the winter sun. 

Brought inspiration's fire; 
An' the morning sun of Springs warm day. 

An' the sangs o' the spring-bird's choir. 
Have made 3-e a new woman Jean, 

Ye arisen as frae the deid; 
In the past lies the mystic vale. 

Ye hae passed frae the Ian o' dread. 

Clase boun' in a shell, ye cudna graw. 
Harmony's Ivre was mute; 



144. PEN PICTURES. 

A life without Affection's luve, 

Isna aboon the brute. 
Existence is a drumlie burn — 

A canal, a barge, a mule. 
That drags alang towards the open sea, 

'Tis a part o' Experience schule. 

Changes grit, auld Time has bro't, 

Ye're in the open sea; 
There's a beautiful ship waiting, Jean, 

This vision cums to me. 
The sails are set, the mast is Strang, 

The ballast is weel placed; 
It's launched in the sea of Harmony, 

Toward the Ian' o' Peace ye're faced. 

Attraction's caught ye, bonnie Jean, 

He warms the heart's cauld bluid; 
Life's wimplin' burnie leaps with joy. 

Ye're na langer in the flude. 
Oot o' the darkness into the licht — 

Ye've been tested weel, ni}- Jean; 
Ye wear the Martyr's signet ring. 

By the Mj'stics gien, I ween. 
April 10, 1900. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



OME, lucky, find a flowery spot, 
For which they never toiled or swat; 
They drink the sweat and eat the fat, 

But care or pain; 
And haply eye the barren hut, 
With high disdain. 




EDGAR EMERSON. 



PEN PICTURES. 145 




ENGLAND'S OUEHN. 



QUEEN! what for j-c moan? Arc ye in pain? 
O Queen! what for ye greet like simmer rain? 
\Ji Wcel buskit oop sae braw, ye've gowd an 
gear; 
Wha's gien ye fashions news that mak's y^ fear?" 

The Queen lay on a down}-, silken bed, 

She murmered oft, and to herself she said: 

"I am Victoria! England's queen. 

The grandest lady in the land, I ween! 

And 3'et — I've had the strangest, strangest dream! 

I saw the waters of a wild, mad stream— 

A storm-cloud gathered darkly o'er my head; 

A thousand devils hovered o'er my bed! 

A phantom ship was waiting on the sea. 

And Death, grim Death! was waiting there for me!" 

"What is't to be a queen? oh! who dare tell? 
Uncertain are the lives of queens, ah! well! 
By fate or chance, my head I still possess, 
More luck^' than my predecessors, I confess. 
Of late, commotion haunts me night and da\'; 
O God! for peace, beseechingly I pray! 
Some think I'm in the mouhh^ clank auld age. 
Are wishirig now, to read my life's last page. 
The generosity of l*arliament the^- see, 
Two millions each 3'ear are given to me. 
Thirty-seven thousand acres of land, 
Mv serveints say that I command, 



146 PEN PICTURES. 

'Tis true, 1113^ servants give me little praise, 
My rents (the^^ say,) are all I raise." 

''Entailed are lands, eastles, titles — tis true; 
This faet to lords, kings, queens, is nothing new. 
An unjust law, (some think,) well! it ma^' be. 
But — Justice possibly might uncrown me. 
There's much to think of in this war of might; 
The agitation seems to be, what's right? 
But, right or wrong, my crown 1 still must wear. 
Yea, of my titled rights, I'll take good care. 
There's one unguarded fact, the world well knows. 
The House of Lords has led me b\' the nose. 
Well haltered I have been for many a year, 
Oh! it has cost me many a bitter tear! 
The house of Lords and Queen, must be as one, 
Or else the Kingdom will be quick undone." 

"The howling mobs are rapping at my gate; 

My morning message is, 'friends, you must wait'. 

The curses of the poor are hurled at me, 

Their cry goes up 'O God! that we were free!' 

And Scotland echoes it along the line, 

Great God! I'll drown nn^ burning thoughts in 

wine! 
My brain is wild, the world is mad! alas! 
I wonder if these clouds will ever pass? 
'Tis true, my troubles gather tliick and fast. 
Glad will I be, when this mad carnival is past. 
With all my mighty armies in the land, 
My royal navy that's strong and grand; 
The foreign nations fear me, far an' near. 
And 3^et, there's strange rumblings in my ear 
Of danger to England's throne, to me, to mine." 

Thus, came a vision to England's queen, 
A vision brought by the gods, I ween; 



PEN PICTURES. 147 

And though, supreme does seem to be her reii2:n, 

Her queenh^ power is on the wane. 

The old queen is waking, in tliis great dav, 

She finds 'tis true, she has little to saA^; 

She has slept and slept the Rip-Van-Winkle sleep, 

Till the canker worm oppression has eaten into 

polities deep, 
And the rotten foundation of that auld English 

throne. 
Will sink into olilivion with nothing but a moan. 



"O God! save my son! 
O God! save the Crown Prince! 

Or he will be undone. 
This royal old family — 

Oh! must we be dethroned? 
Oh! where's the God of Israel?" 

And thus and thus she moaned. 

And so, she roused herself one day, 
And to the people she did sa}^: 
"A jubilee! — a jubilee! 
A royal juliilee in honor of the queen!" 
Ghaist— 

Gin ye canna be heard, sure ye can be seen, 
A costly' figure-head, sure ye be, 

Wi' your mouA' bairns pensioned with a princely 
fee. 

Queen — 

England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, 

Shall raise their banner and spread their sails; 

I'll show the p^'oples of this land. 

That Oueen Victoria, so proud and grand, 

Still sits upon the throne of state — 

I hardlv tliink it's vet too late, 



148 PEN PICTURES. 

To draw the slackened reins, once more; 

I'll rule these lands as ne'er before! 

I'll show the Gladstones and Parnellites, 

I'll fly them higher than a kite! 

My epitaph they'll not write yet. 

The dogs of war on them I'll set; 

My slaves shall sing 'Long Live the Queen'! 

(I'll stop the wearing of the green.) 

And so this doughty queen did prate, 
As she donned her royal robes of state. 

Queen — 

A jubilee! a jubilee! a royal jubilee! 

Bring out the royal coach, 
And decorate with lovely cloth of gold. 

To Lords, a warning sermon I will preach; 
True — plebians homes may 3'et be sold. 
But I'll be queen — queen of this jubilee! 

Oh! let this jubilee be grand. 

Its praise shall ring from land to land! 

Spare no expense — taxes raise. 

The poor man, he will sing mj^ praise. 

Make the procession miles — miles long, 

Rank kings, queens, dukes as they belong; 

Aristocracy's gilded, blue-blooded men, 

Will represent England and Scotland ye ken. 

My royal blood is burning hot! 
The thought gives life and youth I wot; 
My wrinkled face I'll powder well, 
And Age her secrets will not tell. 
The world will think I'm young agen, 
I will command respect of men. 

Old England's laureate will write my praise, 
;\ sweet dear song as in aulden days, 



PEN PICTURES. 14-9 

Lay a corner stone to my Temple of Fame, 
Victoria! Victoria! imperishable her name! 

A panegyric the Lords shall give, 
I'll let the House know that I live! 
This jubilee will be no sham, 
The world shall know its queen I am. 

This is no dream, no idle dream! 
As strange, as strange as it maj^ seem; 
My king, who lies in yonder bed. 
Greeting will send, "M3' queen's not dead!" 

Servant, ring! The Lord Chamberlain I would see, 
Send his lordship quick to me. 

Lord Chamberlain — 

I am your humble servant, Queen, 

(Lord Chamberlain, tho' I be,) 
'Tis with muckle pleasure Ledd}^ 
I wait upon your Royal Majesty. 

Queen — 

Sir — I've a great surprise for thee, 

I'm going to have a jubilee. 

(I wish Merlin, the seer, was here, 

He'd plot and plan, make all things clear.) 

Lord Chamberlain — 

Wi' saddles an' bridles an' trappings line. 
Your blae-bluided horses sail march in line; 
Led, my Queen, b\' your favorite flunkies, 
, An' ahint them will follow the grit mass o' don- 
keys, 
Dressed in scarlet, an' siller an' gold. 
Just as they were in times of old. 
We'll hae the best music, frae ilka land, 
Frae the auld maisters. Oh! it will be grand! 



150 PKN PICTURES. 

The Heavenly choirs will join in the chorus, 
'Twin be, O Queen! subhmel3^ glorious. 
Recorded, this jubilee, in the grit Beuk o' Time, 
Immortalized b^' poet, an' poetess in rhj^me; 
I'll invite a' the lairds that ain lan's an castles. 
Ye are their Queen, they are your vassals. 
We'll treat them like kings, in a royal \va\^. 
For in government affairs they hae meikle to sa}-. 

Ghaist — 

Your cronn is held, Lcddv, by a gauzy thread, 
An' they hae the power to uncroun your head." 

Lord Chamberlain — 

A greetin' I'll sen tae all the grit powers; 
They'll sen' ye fine banners and beautiful flowers. 
An' dear Uncle Sam, frae far cross the sea, 
Will sen' his best wishes tae yQ an tae me. 
An' the Czar oop in Russia, I mauna forget; 
An' the Turks an' the Jews, I'll na' leave in the 
wet. 

I'll say tae the Pape (wha daurna peep oot o 

Rome), 
Ring the grit bells in St. Peter's dome; 
P'or his servant ye hae been, for fifty lang years; 
His subjects are in bondage, in poverty an' tears. 

Ghaist— 

Might and Greed, reign, sovereign powers, 

At the feet of thase twa vampires, Justice cowers; 

The richt arm o' the law, the Pape does need. 

Law is a crushin' mill of Might and Greed. * 

An inquisition, Torquemada behint the scene; 

In the garb o' the Pope, Cardinal, King or Queen. 



PEN PICTURES. 151 

Laird Chamberlain — 

'Tis true, my queen, 'tis true. 
The Tape has meikle need o' you. 
Muckle power the Tape gies ye, 
The Pape an' Queen maun sure a.c^ree. 

Ghaist — 

Kings, queens, emperors, czar, psha, Pape; 
Electrocution, guilotine, bullet, rape, 
Leuk ye north, south, east, west, 
Decide gin _ve can, are we cursed or blest. 

Queen — 

It's right 3'ou are, tis true, dear sir, 
From your opinion I'll not demur; 
The Pope and Queen, sure, must agree. 
Perfect confidence I have in thee. 
I need the Pope, the Pope needs me, 
We two will rule on land and sea. 

Ghaist — 

On 3'our throne Queen, Polic\^ does sit, 

Conscientious scruples' she hasna a whit; 

Oh Queen! whan your subjects do rebel, 

The Pape's curse fa's with fearful knell. 

He'll mak' them ken there's something worse 

Than England's rule, or the eviction hearse, 

In this your jubilee ^^ear. 

O Queen! a nonentity! jq star the play! 

But, Queen, excuse me gin I say, 

Spend na \^our time in haly prayer. 

But gie a wee bit thocht tae w^hat 3^e'll wear. 

A wee bit mutch, an' a bonnet blue. 

That auld Scotland may ken that ye arc true; 

An' burnish wecl prood England's croun, 

An wear ye, Leddy, a silken goun; 

Covered wi' thristles an' roses fair-, 



152 PEN PICTURES, 

That Scotland may kcii, for her ye care. 
Your Ro3'al Majesty does vera weel ken, 
Scotland has nionj^ grand, gnid men; 
The bluid o' Wallace, Bruce an Burns does lee, 
(A republic A-et that kintry will be.) 

Lord Chamberlain — 

A- feast in the castle (one act in the plaj',) 

Afore the close of that grit day; 

An' Leddy, aweel, I wot it micht be, 

Tae invite the Mayor o' Boston tae tea. 

I winna forget to gie India a call, 

It wadna be strange, gin she sen' j-e a shawl. 

Ye have weans a plent}-, that belang tae your tree, 

An' a tocher, the grannie, is expeckit tae gie. 

(Ha! shawls by the dizzen, the coofs will sen' ye, 

An' I'll jink ane oot, I'll bet a bawbee) 

Of a' this, Queen, I'll tak' meikle care, 

Richt royally. Queen, the gree ye will bear; 

All will be weel, I bid A-e guid nicht. 

Success tae the jubilee, may the days be bricht. 

Ghaist — 

All the geese will be watered, whan ye're served, 

O Queen! 
The w^arl's folk will smile at your jubilee, I ween. 
"Grit cry an' little woo" — the Devil dipt the sow, 
Auld Scotia will smile, as she follows, I wow! 

Queen — 

Well! so far, m^^ jubilee's well planned, 
The Lord Chamberlain, seems to fully understand. 
The Royal family will come — one an all. 
Lovingly the\''ll hasten, to the Queen Mother's call. 

The Crown IVince! the Crown Prince! 
My son shall he displaced, 



PEN PICTURES. 153 

In royal splendor, in kingly splendor, 
The Prince shall be arrayed. 
That his immoral nature — 
Ghaist— 

That's an important feature. 
The warl, O Oueen, can ne'er forget 
The Prince of Darkness — the play is set. 
Tho' Prince of Wales, Black is his name, 
Virtue frowns, whan he courts Fame. 

In Edinburg (whan I was young) 

Nae man was half as laigh; 

Down in the cesspools of hell, 

The scum and scurf did gae! 

But, charges werena brocht on man, 

Of such vile, damned report! 

It tak's the Prince of Wales, O Oueen! 

To find Sensation's sport. 

Your servants nid-nod lang his wav, 

An' smile at him sac sweeth-; 

He thinks the lairds will brush him aff 

With the broom of Time, neatl3^ 

The Plouse of Lairds will bury the stencli 

In a graff that's deep and wide; 

But the House of Commons is nae daft. 

They hae na tint their pride. 

Queen — 

Oh! the meddling, buzzing people. 

They sure will understand; 

The privileges of the Aristocracy, 

Are great, in dear England. 

To speak unkindly of the Prince, 

Would seem a plot to me; 

I wonder if he fears the press. 

Oh! life is a tragedy. 



154 PEN PICTURES. 

And this is a tragedy on Life's stage, 
The crown prince must pla^' his part; 
The fetters of a nation I hold, 
He, the pnlse of a nation's heart. 
I see the dark-winged raven Fear! 
It's perched upon my door! 
Will it never, never leave me? 
1 see its shadow on the floor! 
Oh! can it be, oh! can it be, 
That some one to him will sa}'; 
Auld England, Royal England, 
Like her Queen will soon dcca}^? 

Ghaist— 

Aidd England, prood auld England, 

She is a niichty host; 

And yet, tronble's warning whisper 

Comes like Hamlet's ghost. 

She says: England's despotic Plutocrats 

A back seat stine will take. 

And the lairds of the lan's an' castles, 

Frae their restful sleep will wake. 

Justice, Mercy, Honor, Love, Truth, 

On strange legs will stan' erect. 

An' Wisdom's folk winna bow to queens, 

Representatives they'll elect. 

Strange it ma}^ seem, ghaist tho' I be 

Mony facts I've telt 3^e true; 

I'm Scotland's laddie, Robert Burns, 

My name to ye's na new. 

My kintra, my luved kintra, 

England gied tis a bluidy war, 

Auld England's bluid-thirsty bull-dogs. 

With Scotia went muclde too far. 

England's stealing propensities, O Queen! 
Hand's guid thro' all past ages; 



PEN PICTURES. 155 

Bluid, the torture-rack, axe, lire. 

Is written on her pages. 

India's men of honor, of soul, 

To the mouths of guns bound fast; 

Blown to atoms, flesh scattered in air, 

The world looks on aghast! 

Justice and the scorn of humanity, 

Hae flanked their power anent thee; 

Gif ye cud, ye'd ain the warl. 

This mony nations see. 

With your castles an lan's an all. Queen, 

Ye lee in brilliant splendor; 

Oh! the Royal Family, pray tell me. Queen, 

What to the world do they render? 

Millions of gold it takes, O Queen, 

To run your royal crew; 

An' it's truth I'm tellin' ye, O Queen, 

Scotland is amaist though. 

They'll vote your paupers oot o' date. 

Loot them earn their bread and claes. 

They're tired of the Royal pensioned gang, 

The deil it wad amaze. 

Ireland is stamping the grun with rage, 

Her shillalah ye will feel; 

She cowers under your lash, O Queen! 

Unfairly with her ye deal. 

Tyranny's ged is your scepter, O Queen! 

The puir of 3' our kintra howl! 

An' ower it all some glad bright day. 

Will drap the hangman's cowl. 

This means the Monarchy will die. 
Reincarnation will then take place; 
Auld England will be born agen. 
She'll wear a Republican face. 



156 PEN PICTURES. 

A man will be a man then, 
An' vote as all men shotild; 
Women will vote in that grit day, 
Whan Monarch V lies in her shrond. 



GIVING THANKvS. 



]j^0 thee, Bridget! we give thanks 
For oyster-soup and turkey stuffed. 
The Lord ma^- think it little rough, 
And set us down for high-toned cranks; 
But, Christmas dinner, cooked like this, 
With good mince pie and frosted cake, 
We couldn't bless it for Christ's sake; 
We'll eat it all, and then we'll kiss 
The cook that gave us so much bliss. 
Like Burns, I give thanks when I'm through, 
This freak to Christians may be new; 
But he who prays o'er heavj- bread. 
And cake that's like a piece of lead; 
Potatoes hard, meat left to burn, 
Methinks ere he was through, would turn 
His thankful prayers to curses hot, 
The blessing would be soon forgot. 

EzckiclIV Chap. 12, 13, 14, 15 verses. 

Ezekiel tells us of a cake, 
'Twas God told him the cake to bake; 
Such cooking ne'er was done before, 
I'm sure the peoples w^ant no more. 
We know Ezekiel told the truth, 
'Twas not the fiction of a youth; 
We must believe — we must believe. 
The Good Book, wad not us deceive. 



PEN PICTURES. 157 

Disglorify — blaspheme his Gt)d! 
Ah! no, he'd fear the avenging rod! 
I wonder if he blessed the cake, 
(For the Children-of-Israel's sake;) 
As from the red-hot coals he raked 
It out, and dished it up well baked. 
■ Did they invite some friends to sup. 
To help them eat the treasure up? 

God's too esthetic, so I think, 

(At Oscar Wilde he'd wink his eye 

An' gie a knowin' smile sae sn'. ) 

His food's too rich — and wine's his drink; 

I must object to his ciucer wa3'S, 

T like the cooks of modern da\'s. 

My gold did buy the iDread, the meat, 
And Bridget cooked it fit to eat; 
To God or Son I give no thanks. 
Since in the Book I've read their pranks. 
I'll bless dame Bridget braw an' clean, 
To bless the cook is best I ween. 
God had nae finger in the pie. 
Give thanks to Bridget, thanks to I. 
Christmas, 1890. 



OUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



YE douce folk that live by rule, 
Grave tideless, bloody, calm and cool, 
Compared wi' 3^ou — O fool! fool! fool! 

How much unlike! 
Your hearts are just a standing pool; 

Your lives a dyke! 




158 



PEN PICTURES. 



HEIGH-HO! FOR A HUSBAND! 




;k EIGH-HO! for a husband! 

Gin three millions I maun gic; 
I'll hae to lee in a cottage, 
A wee cottage maun shelter me, 



Heigh ho! for a husband! 

I thocht it a' ower in the nieht; 
I canna be a countess, 

But — "Whatever is, is rieht." 

I hae na' siller, I hae na govvd, 
Sae na' Laird will smile on me; 

Na Count, or Sir, or grizzled Duke, 
Will cross the dark blue sea. 

Fashion's dames wi' their millions. 
Replenish the spendthrift's purse; 

Lured by Pride ati' Ambition, 
The hairst they reap is a curse. 

Europe nets Uncle Sam's daughters, 
Their money-bags cross the sea; 

An' they in return sen' Uncle Sam, 
What? paupers Iw millions they gic. 



Heigh-ho! for a husband! 

I'll marry for lo'e na' gold; 
My saul an' body I winna gic ~ 

To a count I winna be sold. 




PEN PICTURES. 159 

Life is too short, an' too precious, 

Royalty' is noo below par; 
Gic me the honest — the cultured saul, 

Honor maun be my life's star. 



THE FOURTH OF JULY. 



H! departed shades of George Washington! 

Art thou disturbed in Heaven with the bang! 
bang! 
And the crashing! clashing! kling-lang-kling- 
lang; 
This in honor of Independence won? 
George Washington, America's great son 
And father. Can you hear the kling-ling-lang, 
In Heaven's 1)right home? can you hear the 
bang-bang? 
Can you wdtli God-like sight discern the fun, 
In climbing greased poles, and catching greased 
pigs; 
While fat men waddle through the mud or dust, 
And trundle wheelbarrows to win a prize; 

Wliile country lads and lassies dance the jigs? 
P'rom this carnival I turn with disgust. 
Shocked, with the broken noses and banged ej-es. 



160 PEN PICTURES. 



« 



A THOUGHT CONCEPTION. 



TRINITY Methodist cluircli, Chicago, 
Alas! to the ground burned; 
Heretics, take notice, the Trinit\^, 
■^ On the Christians the tables have turned, 

One hundred thousand dollars lost, 

The church belonged to God; 
They look upon the ruins, and say: 
We pass beneath the rod. 

Paine's Memorial Hall, rearms high, 

A nionumcnt to Truth; 
What a lesson this, a lesson thisi 

It docs unveil a m3'tli. 
God noteth the fall of the sparrow. 

And nuni<3ers the hairs of your head; 
Thought wanders through Memory's halls, 

Among Miracle's fetich dead. 
Feb. 24, 1900. 



OUOTATION FROM. ROBERT BURNS. 



RANT me indulgent Heaven that I may live 
To sec the miscreant feel the pains they gic; 
yi Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air, 
^ Till slave and despot be but things wbieli were 




MOSES HULL. 



PEN PICTURES. 161 




TO MOSES HULL. 



ELCOME to Lily Dale! frien', 

Mnckle ye're needed here; 
•■ There's g-aiin to be a eleaniii' oop, 

Twill be well dune, na fear. 
We Avant a fearless man like ^^e, 

To rake Pollution's nest, 
Ye'U be an honor to the camp. 
Compared to some the rest. 

Is the C. L. F. A. school a blind? 

To mak' the guid folk think, 
In no wa^' are the^' mixed with ye; 

OhI the Deil at them will wink, 
An' poke them in the ribs and sav: 

I'm wecl acquaint with ye, 
Ye're watched by day, ye're watched at nicht, 

Ye'll nae be foolin' me. 



Blessin's on your pow, Aloses. 

Stick like a wood-tick, stick. 
We'll back ye in your wark, Moses, 

They'll lin' that ye're a "Brick." 
Deception and Hypocrisy, 

In hand they hold a trust; 
A shell we'll place aneath it, man, 

Just wait, ye'll hear it "bust." 
June 1st, 1900. 



162 PEN PICTURES. 



MY ROBIN. 



ANCE kent a sonsie Scotch laddie, 

A braw Scotch laddie \Yas he; 
Sae gay, sae trim, an sae nobby, 
The lassies were jealous of me. 
But Robin was true to his sweetheart, 

He didna flirt with them at all; 
My Robin cam' courtin' on Sunday, 
On those lassies he never did call. 

Sae true, sae faithfu' was Robin, 

Of all laddies I lo'ed him the best; 

I gied all my kisses to Robin, 
Nae kisses I gied to the rest. 

But Robin was puir as a kirk mouse, 

He had na' siller at a'; 
His Strang ban's an' brain were a treasure, 

A treasure I thotch nae sac sma'. 
Truth, wit and good sense. Nature's tocher, 

And a heart that was leal and true; 
But, Auld Nicky Ben cam' atween iis, 

I'll tell the sad story to you. 

My bonnie Scotch laddie, I lo'ed him. 
But he had nae siller for me; 

A poverty- louse said mac faither, 
Nae luve in a cottage for ve. 



PEN PICTURES. 163 

Afy faither \Yas saur as the Deil, sir. 

He didna like Robin at all; 
He turned him avva' frac the hoose, sir, 

With wards that were bitter as gall. 
My faither said "eum ye nae mair, sir, 

My lassie nae mair ean ye see;" 
An' I cried, an' 1 maurned sae lang, sir, 

For the laddie that ne'er cam to me. 

But Rol^in did luve me nae less, sir, 

For the bad wards my faither did sa}', 

An' we aften met on the stile, sir. 

We'd chat in the auld fashioned way. 

**Ye maun mak' aguid match," said mae faither, 

"Ye'd pla}^ the fool lassie, I fear; 
That pauper maun keep awa' lassie, 

I'll keek him oot gin he cums here. 
Ye were born for a ledd\' mae darlin' 

A leddy Fm sure ye will be; 
Ye shall marry a laird, mae wee lassie. 

The laird will be cummin' tae ye." 

*'\'e will be naebody, naebody darlin', 

Unless ye hae castle an' land; 
An' are w^ed to a laird my braw lassie, 

An' lee like a lad\' sae grand. 

"Ye sail hae a braw coach with sax horses, 

Like the Princess O' Whales ye will ride; 
With a coachman an' footman, mae lad\', 

An' a mone3'-bag laird by 3^our side. 
Oh I he will be prood o' his Icdd^-, 

As prood as a laird can be; 
Your beauty he'll prize as a fortune, 

Beauty has its price, ye will see." 



164 PEN PICTURES. 

**Sae, say nae mair, lassie, of Robin, 
Nae mair maun Robin cum here; 

Sae cheer oop, be smilin' mac darlin', 
I'll bring ye a laird, never fear." 

An' mac faither did bring a grit laird, sir, 

A laird that owned siller and gold; 
I was gien tae the lairdly auld laird, sir, 

Tae the laird his lassie he sold. 
Had I been a pownie or coo, sir, 

The bargain wad been much the same; 
Except, that mac faither gat naething, 

An' I'd get the change of a name. 

I lo'ed my Robin the same, sir, 

I maurned him all nicht an' all day; 

An' whan I did gae tae the kirk, sir, 
For Robin I always did pray. 

In the kirk 1 was wed tae the laird. 

With lace and silks I was dressed; 
With pearls, an' rubies, an' diamonds. 

With all siller cou'd bring I was blessed. 
Whan tlie kirk mon did say: "Will ye luve him: 

I thocht I wad fall in a lit; 
I cudna weel lie tae the kirk-man. 

But I didna luve him a bit. 

Sae I leuked tae the richt an' the left, 
An' never a ward did I sav; 

Oh! mae hairt was aching sairh', 

An' for Robin, mae luve, I did pray. 

I lived with the laird in the castle, 
A gray-heided grannie was he; 

He had sae mony queer notions, 

An' his whims disgusted puir me. 



PEN PICTURES. 165 

My laird wore a red, ilannen iiicht-gown, 
An' a uichtcap all tasseled wore he; 

An' whan he was ready for bed, sir, 
I thocht 'twas a clown I did see. 

Oh! I thocht o' piiir Robin, mae darling, 
1 maun never forget him, nae me! 

An' whan I did view that aidd laird, sir, 
1 wished it was Robin,— not he. 

But, the guid Gude does favor the brave, 

Deith cam tae the castle ae day; 
An' he tenk the anld gray-heided laird, 

Deith smiled, an' tae me he did say: 
"I will leave ye the gold an' the siller. 

An' the castle is yours just the same; 
Just gie me the auld laird's red nicht-cap, 

An' I'll get me quick oot, o' your hame." 

O Deith! ye hav dune me a favor, 
I hae leuked for ye mony a day; 

Coom in, I will drink tae your health, sir, 
I'll remember ye, Deith, whan I pray. 

Sac I gied him the auld laird's regalia. 

His Bible, his nicht-cap an' all; 
An' I said: "Don't forget he is auld, sir, 

Please gie the auld laird a warm stall." 
An' he laughed, an' he laughed an' he laughed, 

I thocht he wad fall in a fit. 
An lie said: "Don't worry dear leddy, 

Fret your dear soul nae a bit." 

An' he laughed, an' he laughed, an' he laughed, 

I thocht he wad fall in a fit; 
An' he said: "Don't worry dear leddy. 

Fret vour dear soul nae a bit." 



166 PEN PICTURES. 

"Auld Nickie will see to that, lassie, 

He'll be warm eneaf, hae ye iiae fear; 
Ye're weel rid o' trouble mae darlin', 

Xoo, send for your Robin, my dear." 
An' Robin noo lives in the castle, 

A leal, braw laddie is he; 
An' the auld laird's siller an' horses, 

Belang noo tae Robin an' me. 

An' I thank the guid Gude for his blessin', 

Robin at last won the gree; 
Oh! Robin is glad that he waited, 
Yes waited for puir little me. 



TO KATIE. 



E pull the string. Punch quick responds, 
His limber legs fl}^ hie; 
He prances, dances, jumps and nods. 
With boldness, he isna shy. 
Your power is grit, strange is your string. 

Oh! that string the coof will hang; 
A corpse he'll dangle at the end, 
Ye'U fin' that I'm nae wrang. 



Ye'll buck anent a stranger power. 

Than ye have ever met; 
Spirits are fixin' oop a plan. 

Your wheels they're gaun to set. 
Noo, Katie dear, \'e'll meet Disdain, 

She'll pass ye cauldly by; 
Ye'll reef your sails, your anchor cast, 

Half mast A'our flags will fly. 



TEN PICTURES. 167 




HOW THINGS HAVE CHANGED. 



00 things have changed since I was A'oung, 
Grit is the change I 

The world is oopside down, I vow! 
A wondrous change; 
I think of it, as in a dream, 

Dame Fancy's play; 
In fact, m^-sel' I hardly seem, 

I watch the fray. 
To me the world seems strange an' new, 

It mak's an' auld man amaist blue. 

The lasses wore a flannen goun. 

All winter lang; 
But noo the\^ maun, hae sax or seven. 

Or something's wrang. 
Five dollar shoon, say vera thin, 

I wot, ye ken; 
Gif ye demur they'll raise a din. 

An' then — an' then, 
Thev hae their way, or raise the deil, 

Sae ye gie in an' loot them spiel. 

1 lo'e to think o' Christmas eve. 
In aulden times; 

We dressed oop in our Sunday best, 

Like daddy Grimes. 
The yule-log on the fender la}'. 

In red-he t flame; 



168 PEN PICTURES. 

The guid wife in her kerchief gay, 

Helped on the game, 
(Sae vera auld,) o' bUnd-man's buff. 

Or, ye sail wed wha fin' the muff. 

The gutcher gar't aside hill pleugh, 

He liked it weel; 
He lo'ed to kiss as weel, I trow, 

As ony chiel. 
An' then a sugar bowl they'd mak', 

Ye ken — I ken; 
Sae mony lumps they'd pat in it, 

'Twas like all men. 
The lassies smiled, an' ca'd it guid, 

An' kissed him back as lassies should. 

Then oot the fiddle some one gat, 

An' scraped awa3'; 
'Twas better music than ye hear. 

Your weans noo play. 
Ye deedn't liae to hunt aroun'. 

The tune to fin', 
Diminuendoes an' cresendoes, 

He deedn't niin'. 
He played away' with a' his micht, 

'Twad pat the bogles in a fricht. 

The guid man passed the bottle aften, 

It w^as the way;' 
Oor spirits it did seem to heighten, 

It made us gaj-. 
The bluid did flow, the e'en did sparkle, 

We luved it weel; 
The fiddler teuk his caup richt aften. 

Then he wad speel. 
The graunie, some auld sang wad sing, 

Grand-faither, teuk the pigeon-wing. 



PEN PICTURES. 169 

We gathered roun' the ingle-lowc, 

Dear auld hre-place! 
Arx' coaxed the stories frae grand mither, 

Her smiling face, 
I see it noo, the dear anld leddy, 

Crooned the bab}-, 
An' tauld ns stories weird, an' queer, 

O' some daezt carl. 
Like Tam O' Shanter or Rab Mossgiel, 

Wha she thocht was a puir daft chiel. 

Then mither passed the pumpkin pie, 

An' ntit-cakes sweet; 
Then Christmas cake wi' plums she'd gie. 

Her, nane cou'd beat. 
All kin o' nuts mae mither'd bring. 

With apples sour; 
Then cam' the cider, just the thing. 

It gied us power. 
To dance agen till braid dajdicht. 

The jigs an' reels with all oor micht. 

Alakel alakel those times are gaen, 

They are nae mair; 
I sit at Christmas eve alane. 

With troubled Care. 
The candle an' the snufters missing. 

The dreepin' creesh — 
OhI for me there's nae mair kissin', 

1 wear Time's fleece. 
The clearin' on mae auld lieid's cauld, 

'J'he fact is, I am gettin' auld. 

All things are changed, arc changed for me. 

It seems sae queerl 
Nae candles, but by gas I sec. 

It mak's me leer. 
The auld iire-place o' lang ago, 



170 PEN PICTURES. 

Sa.e bricht an' cheei\v, 
There I did spark an' my liive tell, 

To my ain dearie. 
Oh! times liae changed sae much for me, 

I'm auld an' lame an' canna see. 

The auld st\'le breeks — the auld st^de breeks, 

They suit me well; 
The barn-door front sae vera warm, 

I greet tae tell; 
I canna get them ony mair, 

They'r nae in style. 
Whan tae the store-man 1 talk o't, 

He gies a smile; 
An' then 1 walk awa' sae sad, 

Haen I those breeks I wad be glad. 

The fiddle, noo nae mair I hear. 

At hame, at hame; 
Auld Time has brocht some things sae queer, 

Naething's the same. 
A big pianer banged all day, 

Till I'm maist mad; 
The modern music some folks sa^-. 

It mak's me sad. 
To think hoo Time does disarrange, 

I'm sick, whan I think of the change. 

It's noo the lassie has a beau, 

Nae spark for ye; 
Xa bears creesh on his hair — ye know, 

Like 'twas with me. 
Losh! scented oop like ony fox, 

He'd smell a mile. 
He seems to be a brainless Cox, 

That maun be kept on ice or spile. 
He leuks tae me (a kintra mon, ) 

Like what some ca' babboon. 



PEN PICTURES. 171 

Na sparkin' noo behint the loom, 

Nae they — nae they; 
The dear auld thing has met its doom, 

Sorry to sa^'. 
Now in a spence with porterease. 

They wisely chat; 
Sae tichth' laced, she cudna sneeze. 

An' that, an' that; 
On a divan they sit thegither, 

Chattin' o' the win' an' weather. 

Then, gif the nicht is cauld an' weet, 

As 'tis afttime; 
They place npo' a hole their feet. 

It is sublime. 
A hole weel ironed in the floor, 

It mak's me smile; 
The doin's of these modern times — 

I'll rest awhile. 
Oh! sune a change will cum tae me, 

My heirs will all be glad to see. 



TO MRS. R. S. LILLIE. 



Compliments of E. J. AlacRobert. 

CANADA thistle, that ye ca' me, 
A Canada thistle, with 3'e I'll agree; 
A Canada thistle, Scotia's ain flower, 
A Canada thistle, afore it yc'll cower. 

A Canada thistle, your back it will scotch, 
A Canada thistle, for a fyke ye dae itch; 



172 PEN PICTURES. 

A Canada thistle, a teasle tae ye, 
A Canada thistle, frae it xq will flee. 

A Canada thistle, protection 'twill gie, 
A Canada thistle, the mediums frae thee; 
A Canada thistle, ye can stew for 3'onr broo, 
A Canada thistle, I'll sen it tae you. 

A Canada thistle, will mak' ye dae richt, 

A Canada thistle will mak' ye greet; 

I'll nick aff your horns, a^-e, pull out your fangs, 

Ye'll tak' your ain gait with _vour red-het tangs. 



TO F. G. N N. 



GROUND m^^ axe on 3'our grunstane, 

The blade is sharp 'twill split; 
The block that gets in my way, sir, 
' That block will ken 'tis hit. 

In the trap we didna fall, sir. 

Ye canna cope with me; 
The spirits and bogles are laughing, 

For Rob Burns bears the gree. 
It's Scotch meet Scotch frae noo, sir — 

Water falls to its level; 
Scotch and Seneca meet and mix, 
The dose wad spew the Devil. 
June 1st, 1900. Rob Burns. 



PEN PICTURES. 173 




TO \VM. M'KINLEY, WASHINGTON, D. C. 



^^ ECH! little niaii, ye slip]3ed a eog, 

Whan ye turned crank on De Lome; 
Whan ye gied the Don his pass])ort, 
An' sent the laddie home. 
Ye lit the hre of Plate, man, 

Spain will blaw it to a flame; 
Ye'vc cooked oop a hotch-potch mess, man 
They'll play ye a pawky game. 

The Americans in Cuba, ha! 

Lang ye hac heard them cr^-, 
Insulted — robbed — imprisoned, 

LoshI Mephistoplieles wad sigh I 
Weyler an' his Spanish crew, 

Butchered men Hke swine: 
An' the godly men of America, 

At the sacrament — drank wine. 

While American's blood stained Cuba's soil 

Y'ou worshiped at the shrine of God I 
While fathers, mothers, children starved, 

B_v the t3'rant's heel crushed — sharp shod 
Y'e Godh' men wha kneel an' pray — 

Slept well on beds of down; 
To the call of Duty, ye were deaf,- 

W\ wha wear the nation's crown. 



'Twas whan ye gat the cut behind, 
An' a slap square in the face; 



174 PEN PICTURES. 

Ye rose in your might an' majesty, 

This was a serious case, 
You, the Nation's president, 

Insulted — grit God! by Spain! 
The insult in a private — sealed letter; 

Did this explode the Maine? 

Unbalanced, man — light-weight you seem, 

Dead at the top, ye ken; 
Your headlight is getting dim, 

Ye're nae oop to date — auld frien'. 
A gostly shadow of by-gone days, 

Responsibility's crown ye wear; 
The pride of the navy — beautiful Maine, 

Is where? — McKinley — where? 

Sae sma' a thing, a wee bit letter. 

Sneak-thieves stole the same; 
An' ye gac wild aboot it. 

For shame! William, for shame! 
Weak an' pusillanimous, yea! 

The monumental "I" — that's you! 
The blizzard that ye stirred oop man — 

Well! ye hac little to do. 

Ye, the shadow of another— Losh! 

Like a hand-organ turned by a crank; 
Hvpnotized by the power of Might, 

High-chief in Monopoly's rank. 
Ye wha mind the crack of the whip. 

Wait for Jupiter's (Hanna) call; 
Your position isna enviable. 

In your gold cup ye'll fin' gall. 

Ye'll nae ask for a second term, 

The like o' this will do; 
Ye're too dehcate, an' sensitive, 

The burdens too heavy for you. 



I'EN PICTURES. 175 

The gnardians wha watch yc wecl, 

Unsafe advisors are; 
I fear that cannon ball will \'et, 

The escutcheon of the kintra mar. 

Beware! O President, beware! 

The Goddess saj's: "Move slow;" 
There's a precipice in your path — 

To the bottom you may go. 
The kintra' s watching weel man, 

Wisdom's warning take; 
Enemies are to right an' left, 

Take warning, for the nation's sake! 

I'll never send a son — nae! nae! 

To answer for \'our blunder; 
No friend, no father — brother. 

To face the cannon's thunder; 
While 3^ou, perched on your might\' throne. 

With Hanna at your back; 
Whippin' 'roun wi' a cat-o'-nine. 

Till ye gave De Lome the crack. 

Mair'n twa hunderl mair'n twa hunder! 

Gaen doun with the beautiful Maine! 
Mair'n twa hunder! mair'n twa hunder! 

Grit Gude! where is the gain? 
In the name of friendly relations, 

What a sickening farce — alas! 
Many a mother, daughter, wife, 

Weepin', will chant high mass. 

Dead — dead — dead! 

All in the name of a blunder! 
Dead — dead — dead! 

Weepin' angels Avonder! 
Draw down the curtain close, 

Cover with a pall; 



176 



PEN PICTURES. 



Cause and effect the verdict, 
That's all! 

ADDENDUM. 

This a woman's opinion, 

Not even a citizen, I; 
Born an' reared in this kintra, 

Here I expect to die. 
But a passport — ha! a passport! 

Hanna to me winna send; 
Tho' I talk an' talk o' their "jingoism,' 

Democratic e'en tae the end. 
Austin, Minn., Feb. 25, 1898. 



TO A REJKCTHD LUVKK. 




LADDIE dear! O laddie dear! 
The tide has turned on \e I fear; 
The captive brak the shackles, quick, 
She's gat the temper o' auld Nick. 
We held her \vi' a grip sac Strang, 
But she did say we were a' wrang. 
She snapped her fingers in our e'e, 
An' bid defiance unto mc. 
If she will, she will ye"kna\v, 
But gif it's nae, she'd overthraw. 
The power o' Nick\' Ben tae gain 
The da^', an' quick she'd grasp the rein, 
An' say guid by tae ye an' me. 
Ah! there's nae room for twa ye ken, 
Methinks she tak's tae wiser men. 




THOMAS SKIDMORE. 



PEN PICTURES. 177 



A MESSAGE TO T. J. SKIDMORE. 



Dear Husband: 

t OR main^ months I have repeatedly asked for 
jK a message for 3'ou, from this brave little friend 
r'Q-ji'< but I have been turned aside, not because she 
* was not willing to write it but for other rea- 
sons, which seemed good and sufficient to her. 

M3' passing out was well, and prearranged. The 
storm cloud was over the camp, ready to break. I 
would have been a feather in the gale, no human 
power could have stayed the tumult. Crazed brains 
let loose are like blood-hounds after a victim. It had 
to be and through it all, I was better guarded here 
than I could have been there. 

This friend in the spring of 1894, saw me step out 
of mj^ shoes, and a woman put her feet in them. I 
did not understand it then, but it is all plain now\ 

This woman had long planned, schemed an' fig- 
ured and desired the change that came about. 

It is with grief and deep regret that I see my place 
filled by one so selfish and greedy. They wdio build a 
temple of fame for themselves, through the dow^nfall 
of others, are building on shifting sand; and the law 
of nature which is the law of cause and effect, wall in 
time settle the puzzling cjuestion. ^ 

In 1891 I was greatly troubled over the bursting of 
a social bombshell which thwarted my well laid plans 
for a high school. Concentration circles for personal 
power are now, as then, promoters of evil, and they 



178 PEN PICTURES. 

who work evil will get the result of their own work 
in time. 

There is a power, higher and much stronger than 
the human mind can conceive or comprehend, that 
overshadows you all, takes notice of every act, the 
channel of thought, and the real summing np of all 
lives, is on this side, wdiere onr life record is before us 
and well understood. 

I am with 3^ou the most of the time, and you are 
growing more sensitive to my influence. You must 
be the magnet that balances the trouble on both 
sides. Injustice is not all on one side. Spiritualists 
are not all spiritual, and Theosophists do not live up 
to the standard of their teachings. Extremes are of- 
ten unwise, selfish, immoral and dangerous to the 
camp. 

The better class of Spiritualists, the wise, the spirit- 
ual people, those who forget self and power, those 
who do not wear the tag of the rampant disturber, 
will look to you as a life boat, that will save the 
cause I loved so much. 

You will draw to yourself the better element if you 
use not only kindness and persuasion, but firmness, 
with both parties that are contending for supremacy. 

You have been held to Earth for this work, and 
much depends on how well you perform the mission 
left yon. In your hours of quiet contemplation and 
sometimes unrest from some discordant note, think of 
me close by. I w^ill give you power and strength to 
pass through the trouble with honor to yourself and 
safety to the camp. 

Remember this is, and alwa3'S will be a spiritual 
camp; hold fast to this truth and say to those who 
v\rould have it something else: The world is Avide, go 
your way, \Ye will have no new gods placed upon 
our altars. Spiritualism is enthroned in this camp, 
and outside issues must be kept in their own realm. 



PEN PICTURES. 179 

Guests to l)c entertained but not allowed to monop- 
olize or overthrow. 

Keep \'Our e\'es well open to the maneuvering of the 
reinearnated Riehard the III, and the usurping queen 
(of the so-ealied higher ism,) for Spiritualism is the 
eenter hgure toward whieh all others gravitate. It 
is the head from whieh all others spring, as the parent 
to ehildren. 

My friend Burns is erowding in with his philosophy 
whieh is a little beyond my mental capaeity for ex- 
pression, and I will elose with kind regard to all old 
time friends. Marion. 



SPIRIT KITTIE TO HER FATHER T. J. SKIDMORE. 



Father mine, list what I say, 
Grant my request, grant it I pray; 
With my dear mother you must go, 
Remember, Kittie tells you so. 

Go South dear father, 'twill please me, 
It's for the best as you will see; 
So many reasons I eould give, 
It will help mother mine to live. 

She needs your strength, your guiding care, 
So quickly love, you must prepare; 
A greater reason there is, than this, 
Promise father 'twill give me bliss. 

If yon deny, poor little I, 
You will regret it by and bye; 
This pleasure trip you must not miss, 
Give the promise, I'll give a kiss. 




180 PEN PICTURES. 

And I'll go with voii, father mine, 
Find Youth's fount and cheat old Time; 
When mother's gone, then 3^ou can stay, 
In the old home and have your way. 

I am waiting to hear the yes, 
I can't accept, "don't know — I guess;" 
A positive yes must come out flat, 
A decided yes and that, and that. 

I'll love yon father as never before, 

And give you kisses — well, a score; 

I'll comfort 3'ou through trouble and strife, 

And cheer vou through the storms of grief. 



to' 



Now, when I do so much tor you. 
Don't make me miserable and blue; 
By denN'ing the request of Kittie, 

father it would be a pity. 

You'll go, I know you will, papa, 
'Twill make so happv dear mama; 
And father, I'll be happy too, 

1 feel 'twill be the same with you. 
Sep. 1893. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



OOD Lord! what is man? for simple as he looks, 
Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks, 
With his depths and his shallows, his good and 

his evil, 
All in all, he's a problem must puz;;le the devil. 



PEN PICTURES. 181 




LOVE'S LETTER 
From Kittie to Her Father, T. J. Skidmore. 



URNS hands to Scotch, as all can weel sec. 
An' that doesna please, puir little me; 
I like the plain English or nane, ava, 
Bnt the Scotch o' Rob Burns, pleases mama. 

For twa lang \'ears, I've been asking for this. 
This message, dear father, will gie me sweet bliss; 
I've waited an' waited, aye waited sae lang, 
To keep me a waiting, it seemed to me wrang. 

Ye hae sensed my presence, sac aften ye ken. 
Through Nature's attraction and — then. 
Ye wondered, and wondered, what it all meant. 
But in it all, father, there was an intent. 

Whan o'er the brig ye were walkin' one day, 
I walked wi' ye faither, all o' the way; 
Sae thankful was I, for the kin' thocht ye gave, 
Ye cudna explain it, gif your life it would save. 

Ye thocht of Kittie, ohi the power was Strang, 
An' I smiled for I kent, I wad telt ye ere lang; 
I'm a frien' to Burns' Lady, she kens me frae ither's, 
Luve's message we sen', to faithers an' mitliers. 

In her hame I am welcome, 1 luve her dear Ma3% 
Return the kindness, dear faither, I pray; 



182 PEN PICTURES. 

I luve the music, it makes heaven of earth, 
An' I luve the dancing, laughter an' mirth. 

I see, clear faither, ye'll be left all alanc, 
To you it's a loss, but to me it's a gain; 
Mither's a guid wife, true's the magnet to steel, 
An' whan she is gane, it's lanely ye'll feel. 

Gae ye baith faither, to the vv^arm sinny South, 

It winna gie ither, the l3loom o' 3'our youth; 

But I'm sure 'twill ])lease mither, an' then 'twill 

please me. 
An' to please sac mony, I'm sure 'twill please thee. 

We'll call for dear mither, a little way out, 
We hae gien her the v^^arning, she hasna a doubt; 
She'll mak' a' things readj^ e'en to her shroud, 
Of wife and mither, dear faitiier we're proud. 

Guid by, lovin' faither, all's for the best, 
I sen' this dear faither, 'twill be a guid test; 
Ye will wunner an' wunner gif this is all true, 
Aa^c, mony changes, are cumin' tae you. 
Sep. 1893. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 

HE star that rules my luckless lot, 
Has fated me the russet coat; 
And damned my fortune to the groat. 

But in requite, 
Has blessed me with a random shot, 
O countra wit. 



PEN PICTURES. 183 




TO MARTHA AND TIIOMAvS. 



t^tY dear aiild friend, Robert Burns, 
Has promised a letter to write; 
I said: Just to please me Robert, 
Will vou write the letter tonight? 
And tell dear sister I am pleased, 

With all I sec and hear; 
Tell her the home is aU right, 
And be of good cheer. 

I left the earth life, just in time, 

My going was no mistake; 
Thomas could do better without me, 

I was taken for the good cause's sake. 
Thomas must stand alone in the fight, 

'Twas best that I should go. 
Thomas would have listened to me, 

And my brain was getting slow. 

1 would have been crazed, with all the din, 

And the sin is not all weeded out; 
Some who belong to the proteetives, 

Of them I have great doubt. 
My vision is now very clear, 

No longer am I deceived; 
I am sorry to find wrong and deception, 

In those I once believed. 

Tell P. L. O. Keeler for me. 

He better slide out of that ring; 



184 PEN PICTURES. 

The people are forcing a pressure, 
To him, no good will it bring. 

We see, and hear, and we know, 
The people are sniffing the air; 

He better slide out of that compan^^, 

Or the shame and disgrace he wnll share. 

Burns — 

"The medium's trust is whispered about. 

They tell it worse than it is; 
But the power of the ring is brolvcn, 

It is an unfortunate thing — gee-whiz! 
How" the\' scauld the leaders, 

W— is as black as the Deil; 
Tho' bows four waj^s at once. 

The cat-o-nine tail he will feel." 

Thomas! dear Thomas! we love j'ou. 
For the good of the camp we pra}"; 

Hold a firm hand with G , 

Don't let him have all the "say." 

Stand firm as the rock of ages, 
When you know you are right; 

Tho' he fights the trusts — monopolies. 
He makes Gold the power of Might. 

Love is free in a way, Thomas, 
But sensuality's debasing, wrong; 

1 pray for the good of the camp, Thomas, 
My prayers wmII be answered ere long. 

I love the cause of "Woman's rights," 
But — wdien the low, coarse, vulgar, rule, 
Burns — 

"Not thro' the mental, but the sensual, 
Moralitj" sings sangs o' dool." 

You are old and j^ou are feeble, 
Sune anither will fill your place; 



PEN PICTURES. 18; 

'Twill all come right in the b\'-and-bye, 
To the swift is not always the race. 

I do not like Woman's Day, Thomas, 
It is not what it should be; 

It was not meant for one or two women. 
Let the day for women be free. 

Please see to it this 3'ear, Thomas, 

Give the women command of that day; 
Invite the president of the county. 

And let her have something to say. 
Let them have full swing, Thomas, 

For once, see what they will do; 
And don't w^ait till the last minute. 

Now, Thomas, I leave this with 3'ou. 

Burn s — 

"Since 1894, Woman's daj', 

Has been cornered weel, I wot; 
The life, the soul crushed out, 

Deny it, ye cannot. 
The power behind the throne, enthroned, 

The women turned aw^ay; 
Ye canna force the public mind, 

Opinion ye canna slay." 

And Tilly, oh don't forget her! 

Please put all others away; 
Let them have their cooing and billing. 

But oufof the librar\' sta^'. 

You know I don't like it, Thomas, 
All things in their place I oft said; 

That Library is mine, dear Thomas, 
Let Tilly stay there till she's dead. 



186 PEN PICTURES. 



WHAT MY LOVER vSAID. 



WAS just one 3'ear ago this cvc, 
I remember it very well; 
J In the moonlight we were ehatting, 

I was charmed with Love's sweet spell— 
1 loved my love as lassies do, 

I was leal to \\\y bonnie lover, 
His promises I did believe, 
He was na a fickle rover. 

And this was what my lover said, 

My lover said to me: 
"One year from the day, that we are wed, 

My Love, I'll give to thee 
The richest gift that 1 can find, 

Tlio' it be across the sea; 
I'll search old ocean's jeweled caves, 

I'll bring it back to thee." 

"What would you wish of all things most?" 

My lover said to me; 
"Will it be a horse with trappings fine, 

Or pearls from out the sea? 
Or a coach and six with coat-of-arms, 

Or diamonds rich and rare? 
Tell me your wish, my lassie dear, 

I'll remember with great care." 

My wish, a simple one, just this, 
A piano, the best in the laud; 




PEN PICTURES. 187 

With pearl settings here and there. 

And I want it a baby -grand. 
A baby-grand! a Ijaby -grand! 

The desire of my life; 
"Ha! ha! I promise you the baby grand, 

Some day when I eall you wife." 

A 3^ear has passed since we were wed, 

I'm queen in my lover's home; 
Our palace, Love's rose bower. 

With na gabled roof or dome. 
I am happy, oh! so happ}^! 

As happy as wdfe can be; 
M^^ Charle3% is m\' lover still, 

A dear, kind sweet-heart, he. 

The baby-grand, the baby-grand, 

I hear 3^ou ask, where's that? 
Over there in the corner. 

In that daint}^ wee braw cot. 
Cuddled in lace and pillows. 

Go careful, take a peep! 
The richest treasure in the land 

I've kissed the darling to sleep. 



OUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



AIL, Pocsic! thou nymph reserved. 

In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swerv'd 
P'rae common sense, or sunk cnerv'd, 

Mang heaps o' clovers; 
And och! o'er oft thy joes hae sLarv'd, 
Mid a' thy favors. 



188 PEN PICTURES. 



1 



THE DOCTOR'S WAR. 



OCTOR WENDE will not back down," 
He know^s he is all right; 
"No compromise with healers," 
He's ready for a fight. 
"Let them pass their compromise, 

Accept it I will not; 
I'm in this light to win or lose, 
Law's Jacket will fit I wot." 

The "P^'aith Cures" maim Kill nae mair, 

There's a patent on that — Wende; 
The killing is well cornered, 

Your rights, ve will defend. 
Ye ain the "hail bloomin' business," 

Assembly, Senate and all; 
Gin they bother ye, they get "Hot stuff," 

Ye'll gie them a cup of gall. 

On the doctor's game, the search-licht turn. 

Go back to ninty-eight; 
Wende, down in Fredonia, 

A boom he did inflate. 
A doctor's boom, he cornered well, 

Men, women, children, all; 
Some hid awa}', ithers jumped the line, 

It was a scare nae small. 

Wende's cr^^ went out: "Small-pox! small-pox!' 
On deck Vaccination came; 



PEN PICTURES. 189 

Oh! the doctor's had a soft snap, 

They entered eveiy hame. 
Some doctors said 'twas chicken-])ox, 

Ithers, itch, the thing might be; 
But Vaccination settled it, 

The Itch quick clutched the fee. 

The cry went out frae town to town. 

The doctors sweetly smiled; 
The hairst was a gowden crap, 

An' the weans bluid was defiled. 
It was a crime of hie degree. 

Hundreds poisened were; 
OhI man}' die frae that vile rot, 

I-^rae the puss of a nast\' sair. 

And well you knaw, Law backs this crime. 

Ha! Generalissimo is Wende; 
Wende and Law are in the swim, 

And Law does crime defend. 
This the land of Freemen, alake! 

Liberty wears a gag! 
Take down the stars and stripes quick! 

And furl slavery's black rag. 

In Porto Rico, a million vaccinated, 

By Uncle Sam's doctor's, ha! ha! 
One hundred thousand dollars they got. 

The gudes frown and say, **Pshaw!" 
"Ha! ye talk aboot killing folk, 

A jackass micht envy your brass; 
The grave auld sexton digs a hole. 

While the priests are chanting mass". 

The Cathode Ray, the Cathode Ray, 

On the doctors turn it Strang; 
Search well their damned experiments, 

Ye'U fin then, wha is wrang. 



190 PEN PICTURES. 

Let the victims face their murelerers. 

And tell how the\^ were killed; 
Murder in the first degreel thcA', 

How many coffins filled? 

To sned Life's thread was Hornbook's trick. 

He beat anld Nickie Ben; 
But to .the bairns, an' niankin', 

Doc' Hornbook was a frien'. 
Compared with doctors of this day — 

A man's nae safe, ye ken; 
Gin the doctors stap 3'our breathin', 

"Gude teuk ye," sa^-s haly men. 

The cutting up, is aj^ont belief, 

The experiments Wende danr na tell; 
Vivisection is noo the doctor's art, 

The crime. Law calls, "dune well," 
Appendicitis — that bug-a-boo, Losh! 

Hoo mony hae ye murdered fi^r that? 
Your gilded hospitals — slaughter shops. 

This my opinion flat. 

Self protection is nature's law, 

Wad ye die in a natural way? 
Keep sh}' of the doctor's experiments, 

They are licensed b^y Law to slay. 
Their victims are subjects like dogs and cats, 

Tabled like a sheep or hog; 
An' they cut and slash with as little soul, 

As the lad wha quarters a frog. 



PEN PICTURES. 191 



EPISTLE TO DR. LAKE. 



t .R. Lake — Dr. Lake, 

j It was surely a mistake; 
*' When YOU figured for the catch — 
When you fixed a Doctor snatch — 
When you came to visit me, 
Losh! 3^ou were a subtle bee. 
With a stinger in 3'our tongue, 
That with yenom would haye rung, 
False notes in the judges court. 

Dr. Lake — Dr. Lake, 
Tell me now for Truth's sake, 
How much money did you get, 
l"or falling in their wily net? 
Ah — 3'our A^ery name you sold. 
'Twas a game so yery bold, 
But Salina's Park sae trim, 
Thought the case a little slim, 
Sae he didna tumble in. 

Dr. Lake — Dr. Lake. 
I am sure 'twas a mistake; 
You did swear ^^ou'd know me long, 
I am sure that you were wrong; 
That I never saw you 'fore, 
I would certainly have swore. 
When through the glass you did peek 
I a hiding place did seek, 
For I knew a foe had come. 



192 PEN PICTURES. 

Dr. Lake — Dr. Lake, 
I was sorry for your sake; 
That 'mongst such folks you did mix, 
It did put you in a fix. 
For the people all did know, 
That you weren't so very slow, 
But the snake did 'round you coil, 
And he thought that 3'ou would foil, 
Right and Justice in their Court. 

Dr. Lake, — Dr. Lake, 
You did make a sad mistake; 
You have found that man was "thin, 
He who paid you with his "tin," 
He's a villain, no mistakel 
Don't you see it Dr. Lake? 
As a Judge he gi-andh' sits, 
But's not noted for his wits, 
He's the Countv figure-head, 
Aye, a party must be dead, 
When they get to" such' a pass, 
Let us charit for. tlichi high-mass, 
Bu3'-a coffin in the fall, 
Spread o'er tlieiii a funeral pall, 
Write an elegy sublime, 
Put them in the vault of Time, 

1892. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



^tyvj^ E ma\^ be poor — Robie and I, 
010] Light is the burden love lays on; 
tJIpll Content and love brings peace and Joy- 
^ What mair hae queens upon a throne? 




MRS. MARION SKIDMORE. 



PKN PICTURES. 19:>> 



KITTIB TO HER MOTHER, MARION SKIDMORE. 



am Kittic, darling mother, 

Just the same as in earth life; 
It was well that I passed over, 
I've escaped the bitter strife, 
That oft comes to mother's daughters. 

It might have been the same with me; 
It was for the best dear mother. 
This truth, mother, you will see. 

Oh! the suffering of soul an' bod\', 

I see so much from day to day; 
I am thankful I passed over, 

"So am I," says sister May. 
I've a little frien' dear mother. 

To our home I bring her oft; 
And we smooth your brow, dear mother, 

With love pats, kind and soft. 

I am proud of \'ou, dear mother, 

The blind see by your soul's light; 
Oft I see in souls of others. 

Fires of Hell, then darkest night. 
You are true, grand and noble, 

I love you, love you mother dear; 
For you, it's all right on this side, 

Your future, mother, is bright and clear. 

In the last hour I'll be with you, 
You will see me first of all; 



194 PEN PICTURES. 



Loving friends will gather roimd you, 
Oh! the number is not small. 

We will sooth the pain dear mother, 
You will know that we are there; 

We will love and cheer you mother. 
In your bright home over here. 

Bide-a-wee, darling mother, 

Bide-a-wee — bide-a-wee; 
We'll be waiting at Death's river, 

The spirit boat, you will see. 
In Love's arms we'll gently bear you 

To fair Beauty's peaceful home; 
' Oh! you'll wonder, darling mother. 

That before, you did not come. 

Oh! my loving — darling mother! 

I've asked oft to write to thee; 
I feel sure your soul will tell 3^ou, 

This is from Kittie — 3^es, from me. 
And I know you'll thank the writer, 

She to me is very kind; 
Day and night she writes Love's message, 

Kind and faithful as all find. 

This v;ill be a little treasure, 

Love boiled down in poesy; 
Mother dear, my soul is in it! 

You will know that it's from me. 
Good by mother — good by mother, 

I'm so glad that I can say 
So much to you — loving mother, 

And say it, mother, in my way. 
Sep. 1893. 



PEN PICTURES. 195 



THE SCHOOL OF THE C. L. F. A. 



DAY dream, a night dream, 

The desire of our Marion's soul; 
A College of Art and Philosoph}', 
This her highest goal. 
She planned and prayed for many years, 

But prayers were all in vain; 
The "Great Powers," at Lily Dale, 
Could not see the gain. 

Ah! presto — change! the school is here! 

The "Board" has spawned the child; 
It they conceived! it they horned! 

But, it's delicate and mild. 
That's what I hear, but — let — me see, 

What have they got? oh, god! 
A just one, no more! and he, 

Will sune skip 'neath the sod. 

A representative fair, 'tis true, 

Of the dead condition here; 
A child led by its grand-father, ^ 

O Lily Dale! folks sneer! 
And even "Lobby," with wisdom great. 

Must see the point I'm sure; 
With hope we'll wait auld Time's sure tide. 

With Patience we'll endure. 

Wright it is, we'll watch the shell, 



A chrysalis it may be;J 



196 PEN PICTURES. 

O Evolution! nurse it well! 

We leave the germ with thee. 
And when the old conditions pass, 

Life from that shell may spring; 
A power divine i-nay He within, 

That good things 3'et may bring. 



TO THE GUDE MOTHER OF THE CAMP, 
MARION SKIDMORE. 



^ AE vera lang I've thocht o' ye, 

Guid Gude-mither o' the Camp: 
Ye seem sae vera much to me, 

Like a beautiful electric lamp, 
That sheds a radiant licht aroun', 
That a' may see the way; 
Ye'd hae nanc stra^^ in darkened paths. 
Gin 3'e cou'd hae 3'e're say. 

Ye'd fill the lives o' all with flowers, 

Ye'd gie to all sweet peace; 
Wi' Plenty's han' gie Beauty's hame, 

Their warldly stores increase. 
Bestow Contentment, Luve an' Rest, 

Humanity's mithcr guid; 
Ye do sae vera — vera much, 

Ye'd do mair gm 3^c could. 

I lo'e ye for the guid ye've dune, 

Ye, I cum aft to see; 
But, Mither I've a wark to do, 

A wark that's gicn to mc. 
Sae like a' sons I've wandered, 

I'm nac sac much wi' vc; 



PEN PICTURES. 197 

I'm wedded to my wark, mither, 
An' m}^ Leddy warks with me. 

She's m}^ ideal, sae brave an' true, 

She never fears a fae; 
She'll Stan for truth an richt, mither, 

Nae matter what ithers say. 
Born in the circle of mystics, 

A sensitive for the cause; 
We play the sweetest tunes, mither, 

Thro the psychic laws. 

Music is a gift, mither. 

The harmonies combined; 
A royal feast o' the gudes, 

Aft wi' them ye hae dined. 
That's hoo we master m3^sticism. 

Phenomena produce — yea! 
Harmony we maun hae, mither, 

It's the sequence of the play. 

Ye mauna think I luve ye less, 

Because of this or that; 
Nae thinkit guid, mither mine, 

I'll gie ye the same luve pat. 
Spirits affinitize to wark, 

Mair perfect than in life; 
We separate — and harmonize, 

Our days with guid warks rife. 

I'm just the same queer Rab, mither, 

Luve's the best gift I've got; 
Lo'e niak's the warl gae weel, mither. 

An' a' that an' that. 
Reincarnated wi' m\^ luve, 

It matters nae what they say; 
Spirit friens smile to hear the talk, 

An' the scenes shift with the play. 



198 PEN PICTURES. 

Guid b}^ mither, I maun gae, 

Fare thee weel sweet niitber mine; 
Tak' ye off to Florida, 

Improve the hours o' Time. 
Lave in the balmy air o' the south; 

Come back with the birds of spring, 
We'll gie ye all the strength we can, 

Peace, Luve, Rest we'll bring, 
Sept. 1893. 



"THE BRIGS OF AYR." 



HAT bards are second sighted is nae joke, 
And ken the lingo o' the sp'ritual folk; 
P'ays, Spunkies, Kelpies, a' they can explain 
them. 
And ev'n the vera deils the\^ brawly ken them. 

In plain braid Scots hold forth a x^lain braid story, 

Nae langcr tlirift3% citizens an' douce. 

Meet ower a pint, or in the Council-house; 

But staumrel, corkj' -headed, graceless gentr^^; 

The herryment and ruin of the country; 

Men, three parts made by tailors and by barbers, 

VVha waste \^our w^ieel-hain'd gear on d d new 

"Brigs and Harbors!" 

Rob Burns. 



PEN PICTURES. 199 



BIRTHDAY GREETING TO MARION SKIDMORE. 



LL hail this glorious day! all hail! 

A birth-day greeting, mother mine. 
Our gude mither of the camp! 
We'll gie to jq Life's precious wine, 
Guid gude-mither of the camp! 
Bousing and laughing, we clink our glasses, 

We clasp hands one and all; 
Like bumming bees we flit aroun', 
This is a pleasant call, 
Gien us by auld King Time. 

Life's brittle thread is aft too short, 

Too short it seems to me; 
O mither! cou'd I have my wa\^, 

Ye'd live as lang as "She." 
Gin I could hae mj^ wav, 
I'd say to Time loot her lee lang, 

For the good that she will do; 
She's been a blessin' all her life! 

She can be na mair to you. 
Sheathe quick Death's subtle knife^ 

Oh mither mine! Time listens nae. 
He turns his Ivack, on me; 



200 PEN PICTUREvS. 

An ca's mc fule, to think he'll gic, 
A life as lang as "She." 
Auld Time an' I dinna agree. 
Life is eternal, there is nae end; 

One ever eternal now; 
The Past sits on the highest mast, 
While the Future rides on the prow. 
O silent Past! 

Three guests I tin' on Life's weird ship. 

The Future, the Present, the Past; 
Into each life they silentl3^ glide, 

By each, sunshine and shadow is cast; 
As o'er life's river we ride. 
On — on, mither mine, Life's bark will glide. 

With the same passivity. 
But the storm of Destiny will overtake, 

Ye'U be rescued by Immortality. 
With Fate there's nae mistake. 

Sae, mak' ilka day a hallowed one, 

Full o' the hiney o' life; 
Ye'll be the same busy bee, 

Warkin' for Peace, na Strife, 
Till Death does set ye free. 
I canna, mauna, winna ask, 

Auld Time to pass ye by; 
Tho' it wad seem a loss to ye, 

An frien's wad maurn an' sigh, 
A blessin' grit to Kittie an' I. 

Ye'll laugh, an' smile, an' happy be, 
As lang as j-our day does last; 

Muckle 3^e've gained in spirit, we see. 
With spiritism, ye're abreast; 
Aye, mither, we bless ye. 

Yea, ye hae gained in spiritual truth, 
Opened wide your een; 



PEN PICTURES. HOI 

Your inflnciicc has blessed fair 3'outli, 
To all its plainly seen, 
An' j'-e gied oot a roiith. 

Bide — a wee, dear mither mine. 

Yours sail be a flower croun; 
Ye've been guid to human kin', 

Ye gied nane the sullen frown. 
Nae, ye gied the bluid-red wine 
Of human kindness, the milk of luve, 

Yea! with a luve sae deep an' true, 
An with a ward as saft as eooing dove; 

Yea! sae your saul with guid warks grew; 
We viewed it all frae heights above. 

Oh! for this wondrous work ye've done, 

We bless ye now and a^^e; 
Oh! ye a blessed vietory won, 
The hairs t is in the by-and-bye; 
Wait for Transitions rising sun. 
Over your grave we'll plant bright flowers. 

Pink-eyed forget-me nots will blow. 
And lillies fair and sweet; 
The emblems of a pure, true life. 
Beautiful and complete. 
Sept. 1893. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



^-j^ HEN Nature her great masterpiece design'd 
jHI And framed her last, best work, the human 
yj^ mind; 

^ Her eye intent on all the maz^^ plan, 

She form'd of various parts, the various man. 



202 PEN PICTURES. 



JAMIE'S SOLILOQUY. 



AE mony weans I hae to feed, 
I wonner gin tliej^ are mine? 
I have a sonsie black-e^^ed bairn, 
That seems nae in my line. 

My wife Betty has auburn hair, 

And mine is yellow, 3'e see; 
Trowth! the wee, braw, black-e\^ed bairn. 

Is an unco puzzle to me. 

She's the fairest one in the hale lot, 
And she giggles all owre with glee; 

She disna act like Betty, 
And she disna act like me. 

She sings like a nichtingale mornin' an' nicht, 

Betty can't sing mair'n a quey; 
While I never sang a note in my life. 

There's something, somewhere, agle3^ 

She's the smartest one of the hale lot, 

Haniely and dull are the rest; 
She micht be taen for registered stock. 

But nane ither in my nest. 

She leads her class, tak's all the prizes, 

A vera beuk-worm is she; 
Where in the deil does she get it all? 

That is what puzzles me. 



PEN PICTURES. 203 

Is she a luvc-weaii, drap't i' the nest, 

Whan I was awa' frae hamc? 
Was Betty unfaithful to her guid laird? 

Did she play nie a sleekit game? 

Weel! I'm half inclined to think it's sae, 
There's mair truth in it than fable; 

But the wee black-e3'ed witch I love, 
Tho' a stranger at m}^ table. 

I bred my cowt frae the vere best sire, 

My coo I did the same; 
My pigs in the pen, are from registered stock, 

But my bairns, are crooked an' lame. 

Alake! alake! thej^ say; bluid tells, 

I'm very sure it maun be; 
I've bred a nest of sickly weans. 

Misfortune's bairns I see. 

All but the wee one, with braw black een, 

As straight as an arrow is she; 
And that is why, I aft times think 

She disna belang to nie. 

Weel! I'll nae fin' faut with Betty for that', 

The cross was a vera guid thing; 
An' I'll thank the laird whae'er he be. 

That he, the bairn did bring. 

But — my povv gets ram-feezled afttinies, 
Whan the neebors scan that wean; 

For she's nae like Bett}', an' she's nae like me. 
That is plainly seen. 

Like Joseph, I maun shield Betty, 
I'll say, 'twas the Haly Ghaist; 



204 PEN PICTURES. 

Oh! donsie 'twad been, had I been hame, 
I'd smoor'd the haly beast. 

I'm nae free-luver as ye weel ken, 
It's the maist damnable of all; 

But, whan I think o' that black-eyed wean, 
I'm glad the ghaist did call. 



MEMORIAL TO ANGELINE POPE. 



UT of the old life, into the new. 
Friend, many there are who envy yon 
The rest and peace that death has brought; 
"^ The wondrous change Transition wrought. 
The body, by mother Earth caressed — 
The tired spirit will find sweet rest. 
We give you friend, Love's rich blessing — 
Gone to a higher life progressing. 
From Earth's environments you are free. 
Eternity has opened its doors for thee; 
A spirit you'll come, with 3'our passive nature, 
Vou were a friend to every creature. 
The same kind spirit will harmonize, 
Help thou the weak to be strong and wise; 
Roll back the gates of Eternal Truth; 
Open the blind eyes of age and youth. 
A ministering spirit thou wilt be. 
The pure and good will come with thee. 



PEN PICTURES. 205 



PUIR AULD SPAIN! 



HE oldest colonial power in the world, 
Once the richest nation, they sc^y, 
In the lano^ ago, the lang ago; 

This, is the poet's lay. 
This the pride an' boast o' Spain, 

"The world we can buy and sell;" 
"Our cofters are full," sang the buccaneer, 
'Twas a story they liked to tell. 
Puir Auld Spain! 

Puir auld Spain! 
In that awful beuk o' doomsday, 

I see your name is writ; 
Half crazed, demented — O cruel Spain! 

Hech! — noo ye'll halt a bit! 
Ance the richest, proudest kintra, 

That onj^ man did ken; 
The proudest aristocracy 

Owned by lairdly men. 
Puir auld Spain! 

Puir auld Spain! 
Of tyrants ye can boast, O Spain! 

Such tyrants, nane has e'er kenned; 
Such treachery — such a history! 

The tellin' was never penned! 
Grit Gude! 1 shiver at the thocht! 

Jehovah wad turn pale; 
I close my lugs for fear I'll hear, 



206 PEN PICTURES. 

The tortured victims wail. 
Puir auld Spain! 

Puir aiild Spain! 
'Tis said a lioongry louse bites sair, 

Throu' ilka c\^cle, that held guid; 
Your loof did itch for shinin' gear, 

Your slaves did starve for food. 
Your treasure house was ever full, 

Your Dons a lairdly crew; 
They skreid for bluid, for bluid of man, 

Red bluid they've waded through! 
Puir auld Spain! 

Puir anld Spain! 
Torquemada was your bairn. 

Ye arena proud o' that, O Spain! 
Ye wad forget that chiel I'm sure, 

Ye'd blush, to think o' grit men slain! 
Tortured on the rack, O Spain! 

Btirned at the stake an' a'. 
Such a history! such a history! 

Your sins, Dame, arena sma'. 
Puir atdd Spain! 

Puir auld Spain! 
Your laddies roamed the ocean braid. 

Were the terrors of the sea! 
The black pirates o' your Ian', 

Frae them the deil wad flee! 
The bluidest cut-throats ever kenn'd 

Spawned in the wame o' a beast; 
The letting of bluid to a Spaniard, 

Was the richest kind of a feast. 
Puir auld Spain! 

Puir auld Spain! 
Ye w^ad gang your gate, wi' cursess liet, 



PEN PICTURES. 207 

Ye heard na hiimaiiity's cry; 
The day of Judgment, has cum, Spain, 

Ye'll ken niair, by an' by. 
Your shoon fits weel your shacld'd feet. 

An' your croun wi' bluid is rust}-; 
Your rotten auld throne is nae worth a plack. 

The toddlin auld thing is musty. 
Puir auld Spain! 

Puir auld Spain! 
Ye nursed this war for mony a year! 

Your monstrosities are great; 
Ignorance led ye blindly 

Into the jaw^s of Fate. 
It's ainly a question of time, Spain, 

Whan Tyranny maun dee! 
Liberty is Nature's law. 

Your people will be free! 
Puir Auld Spain! 

Puir auld Spain! 
Ye're nearin' j^our graff, ye'll sune gae deid. 

An' maurner's, ye'll hae nane; 
Our goddess will gie ye a braw new shroud. 

Ye sail lie, \yV the ase o' your slain. 
There are better da\'S for your slaves, O Spain! 

Might has lost her power! 
The rainbow o' promise, is glintin' i' the lift, 

Nae langer will j^our subjects cower. 
Puir auld Spain! 

Puir auld Spain! 
Weyler is a relic of pirate days. 

In a cage the beast maun gae; 
Gie him a tiger for a bed fellow, Spain, 

An' loot the twa beasts play. 
Loot them scratch, an' bite, an' fight. 

Loot them do whatever thev wnll; 



208 PEN PICTURES. 

Whan lie feels the clutch of the tiger's paw, 
Then Vengance will hae her fill. 
Pair auld S^iain. 

"The mills of the gods, grind slow, but snre,' 

Evolution has bagged a grist; 
The C3'clone of Fate has gien Spain a whirl, 

It has gien Corruption a twist. 
Kings, Queens, Czars, Sultans, Emperors, 

Their mighty' thrones must fall, 
Equalit3\ Liberty, to woman and man. 

Equal rights to all. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



E see 3'on birkie ca'd a lord, 

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that: 
Tho' hundreds worship at his word, 

He's but a coof for a' thai: 
For a' that, and a' that, 

His riljbon, star, and a' that. 
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth, 

Are higher ranks than a' that. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



GEAR will l)uy me rigs o' land, 
And gear will buy me sheep and kye; 
But the tender heart o' leesome love, 
The gowd and siller canna buj'. 




MRS. MARIA RAMSI ELL 



PEN PICTURES. 209 



TO MRS. MARIA R L. 



HE message, Lad3^e, with pleasure I write, 
I grant the favor with dehght; 
Frien, ye' wiiina ca' me twice, 
Lad^-e, I thocht it vera nice. 
Ay, a compHment I ween, 
Lang, dear Lad\'e, I hae seen, 
Ye did wiss a ward frae me, 
Noo Lad\'e, I'll write for ye. 

Three dear laddies on this side. 
Ilk one claimed 3'e for a bride; 

They sen' greetings, frien', to \^e, 

A3', the\' wiss that \'e micht see, 
Conscioush', and understand; 
Ilka one of \'Our guid band. 

Wad gie ye the inner sight. 

It wad gie jq grit delight. 

True an' noble 3'e hae been. 

And these laddies lang hae seen 
Trouble cum to yq sae fast, 
An' thc\' raised a firm Strang mast. 

The spread sails quick caught the win', 

Oh! these laddies are na blin'; 
"All that comes into your life. 
We know, remember this, dear wife." 

"You were always kind and true. 
Faithful, loving as all knew; 



210 PEN PICTURES. 

Dear Maria! you smiled with cheer, 

Hopeful ever, you'd no fear; 
When Fate sent us cold and rain, 
Harmony we found in its refrain; 

O Maria! my dear good wife, 

You were the blessing of my life." 

"Tell Pet, she must not turn awa}^ 
I'm with the darling night and da}^; 
Nature's spiritism, is true 
She knows well, 'tis proved b}^ 3'ou. 
In twilight's hour, she listens to the Gtiide, 
In this she makes no sacrifice of pride. 

Pet! the latch string is not out for me. 
The reason Pet I cannot see. 

"The same kind father I am, as then, 
And I do wish, my Pet, that when 

1 come so close and give Love's kisses warm. 
You'd think of me. Pet, I would not harm 

My child, or give j^ou fright — not I! 

Pet! I often hear you sigh; 
Remember Pet in times like this I'm nigh; 
There's rest for thee, Luve, by and bye. 

"Catch the sunshine, Luve, drink to your fill, 
Grinding is Time, the last grist in Life's mill; 
The harvest is ripe, the sheaves we'll bring in, 
Not far out, Luve, the new life will begin. 
You've stood by Spiritism, brave an' true. 
There's a golden crown, waiting for 3^ou; 
Wait a wee bit we'll gather Life's flowers. 
Then, we'll tak' ye away, to Heaven's bowers." 

This message, dear Lad3'e,Igie ye with pleasure, 

1 ken w^eel dear Lad3''e, 'twill be a rich treasure; 
Ye'll read it alane, with tears in your e'e, 
Av,the laddie'l be there, ve will ken, he will see; 



PEN PICTURES. 211 

Gif jQ mill' his message, an' do as he says, 
'Twill bring comfort to Pet, in coming days; 
'Twill gie the bairns shelter, in time o' need, 
'Twill prove a rich blessing, a blessin' indeed. 



SCOTCH POT-POURRI. 



i« UT wherefore do you droop? Why look so sad? 
l|^ Be great in fact as 3'ou have been in thoughtl 
^1 Let not the world see fear and sad distrust, 
^ Govern the motive of a kingly eye; 
Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; 
Threaten the threatener, and out-face the brow 
Of bragging horror, so shall inferior eyes. 
That borrow their behavior from the great, 
Grow great by your example; and put on 
The dauntless spirit of resolution; 
Show boldness and aspiring confidence." 



My rhjmies are vera gnid, I wot. 
An' rythm, well — 'tis passable; 
I meet her ilka chance I get, 
Mv reason is definable. 



To Nature true, my "Rum's Appeal, 
The price the beuk, that's worth; 
An' mony things ye'll fin', frien's. 
Brim full of wit an' mirth. 
Sae whan ye fin' an ugh^ slip, 
Or flaw, or brak' in rhyme; 
Pleas^e pass it b^^ an' we will try, 
To fiiak' it richt neist time. 



212 PEN PICTURES. 

Ayont the price of gold we prize, 

The medium that's true; 

But those wha cheat, an' fraud an' that, 

(I've met them sae hae you.) 

It's little use we hae for sic. 

Their just deserts they'll get; 

Greed and Dishonor, twins frae hell, 

In time their wheels we'll set. 



My Lad^^ is na daft, ye ken, 

An' crazed, I ken she's not; 

The up-to-date shots in this bcuk, 

Will prove that truth I w^ot. 

In guid condition is her brain, 

Thought has a fertile field; 

She dares to face the wrang, frien's. 

An' richt she'll ever shield. 

A brain that yields to ilka touch, 

A telegraph machine; 

An ear weel tuned to catch the rhyme, 

Plain facts are these, I ween. 

An' sae, my medium an I, 

Are wakin' weel thegither; 

I luve my bonnie, witty lass, 

I am her spirit brither. • 



George Brooks — our Longfellow, 

This 3^ear I'll pass the hat; 

All' gather up the bawbees. 

An' placks, an' that, an' that. 

I'll buy for George a phonograph, 

A change w^e surely need; 

We're tired of, "God I'm nearer Thee," 

For rest O God we plead. 



PEN PICTURES. 2ia 



I'll buy a chair for, Longfellow, 
With accomodation legs; 
Sae he winna frame an &c., 
An twist his limber pegs. 
An' whan he gies the slogan, 
Subscribe! subscribe! I pray! 
We'll pat that in the phonograph. 
Subscribe! is what 'twill say. 



Hamlet, with Hamlet left out, what is't? 

"A farce," my Lady said; 

Burns, with Burns left out, what is't? 

A beuk that wad be dead. 

My satires, cast na in the low^, 

But publish, as I say; 

I do command, I hae the richt, 

Frae noo, I'll hae my W3.j. 

"April is yours," my Lady said, 
**Yea! give whate'er you please; 
Use your Scotch thistle, Rob, 
'Till your victims bark and sneeze. 
Vivisect 'till naething's left. 
Cremate, do what you will; 
The tragedy, I'll view it, Rob, 
The grist from your Poet's mill." 



The guid folk ask, dear Lily Dale, 

Is that hoose the A n? 

And is it under the control; 
Or, are the favors well reserved, 

Of General A n? 

Grit god! I wish I knew; 

Gae ask the C. L. F. A. Board, 

I wot, they'll tell ye true. 



214 PEN PICTURES 

I canna spoil my picture, 

For rythm or for rhyme; 

The thought is first, and last, aud all, 

Auld Nick can ring the chime. 

Artist I am o' hie degree, 

My pictures all can view; 

My colorings, from Nature's field. 

My sketches, fresh and new. 



Kneel in the mire nae langer, man, 
Ye are aboon that plane; 
Tae the physical flesh-pats, kneel na, 
Tae 3^e there is na gain. 
Rise to the mental altitude. 
The clean folk there j'c'U fin'; 
This — the advice of Robert Burns, 
Ilk man tae his ain kin'. 

Like a tyke, shak' your sel. 

Whan oot that nest ye get; 

Tak' a Turkish bath, man. 

Ye need it weel, ye bet. 

He wha sleeps in a coal shed. 

Black he sure will be; 

An' he wha roosts with a lousy hen. 

Of lice he isna free. 



Fraud stole fair Flora's flower seeds, 

And sent them, God knows where; 

I'll plant in place, Truth's thought seeds, 

And culture them with care. 

Fraud arm-in-arm with Greed's black thief, 

Their noses they rub thegither; 

On P; n sweetly smile, 

Lead some wife's laird with tether. 



PEN PICTURES. 215 

Danie Hyde has changed positions, 

Things are not what they seem; 

The vision that was dear to her, 

Is now an idle dream. 

The thing she thought, Dame Virtue's wean, 

Is noo auld Nick's bad child; 

She's dashed it to the grun, ye Gudcs! 

With Frenzy she rins wild. 

Concentration starred the play, 
But all things went aglej^; 
The power o' mind was na sae grit, 
As she oft hoped 'twad be. 
Imagination with satellites, 
Thought the game to turn; 
Thought's combination lost the cue, 
A lesson sad, they learn. 



Dame Stearns — a hirplin lang the wa\% 

An axe she has to grind; 

She's croonin' the "Lobby member". 

The talk she disna mind. 

Policy, is dame Stearns' God, 

Example is nocht, nae — nae; 

That axe, that axe, she's boun' tae grind, 

Sae, get ye oot her way. 



Whate'er you represent, dear frien's. 
That is what ye are; 
Your frien's an' your associates. 
You're under the same star. 
Like attracts like, 'tis true, 
Some say all things are good; 
But, in a general way frien's. 
It's nae sae understood. 



216 PEN PICTURES. 

Free Love's procession leads the way, 

I'm in the ring ye ken; 

Nae wall-flower am I, nae, 

I train with the hie oop men. 

I've loaded weel the dice, yea, 

My stock is in the pool; 

With my big bamboo fan ye ken, 

I keep the hizzies cool. 



Respectability looks on. 

Gold is the power; the god; 

Micht is the Christ, with ruhng hand. 

He spurs j'c with his rod. 

A few well drilled, track in the wake. 

To brush the bugs and flies; 

Morality blushes now and then, 

While Decenc3^ grows wise. 

We have the masses and the classes, 

Richt here in Lily Dale; 

The special privileges to some, 

Truth tells a sorry tale. 

If you have gold, reign like a king. 

Defiance j'our shield and guide; 

Then P n, your hand-maid fair, 

Will wait to be your bride. 



P^rae the itlier side, the mither's plead 
"Our bairns save frae Corruption;" 
The ''Lyceum," we loved so wcel. 
Remove the wraith. Destruction. 
Our Marion nursed well that school, 
Virtue's mother mild was she; 
She'd drag Pollution's cess-pool. 
Keep the bairnies clean and free. 



PEN PICTURES. 217 



There is a law, Suggestion, 
That impregnates ilka mind; 
The psychic catches thought in air, 
The children are na blind. 
Ye are responsible, O men! 
For Immortality's atmosphere; 
The children breathe it, sniff it. 
Damned are these weans I fear. 



This is nae masquerade, nae, nae, 
Clean-faced, bare-han' I gie the blaw; 
I'm on the top shelf in the game. 
My plans 3^e winna overthrow. 
This is the time the dames are lame, 
The^'- canna twist me like a string; 
Ye wear the gag as weel as they, 
To time, Rab Burns thej^ canna bring. 



God's mills grind slow but vera sure, 
Poor Merritt was a figure-head; 
But a new figure ye'll sune cut. 
When one's laid low amang the dead. 
Electrocution's in the game, 
We're fixin now^ dame Fate's death chair; 
Le change de affairs, we've waited lang. 
An' watched Free Love with cunning snare. 
But lang's the raid that has nae turn, 
A rotten throne will fall; • 

If in the flame your fingers burn. 
Just bear it, dinna squall. 



Whan man has lost his usefulness, 
And's in Progression's way; 
Whan man checkmates Justice, Right, 
And Selfishness holds swaj'. 
That is the time we call a halt. 



218 PEN PICTURES. 

And sued the thread of Life; 
We tak' him o'er on this side, 
Out of the way of Strife. 



I call things by their right name, 

Nae shoddy aristocracy; 

Of Scotch descent — a plengman, 

I scorn Plutocracy. 

Cats, tykes an' weans, the powny, kye. 

The braying Jackass, all; 

God made the rattans an' the doo, 

His menasfcrie isna small. 



There's a keek aboot the tax law. 
An' the Lobby members sa\^: 
"Whoever keeps an animal, 
Just loot that keeper pay." 
Sae I will gie a hint, ye lairds, 
Pat your pet monkeys in; 
List them with Sir Thomas Cat, 
Justice a point will win. 

The guid folk winna read my Scotch, 
That's what I hear some say; 
I think they will, what think you? 
They'll read it nicht an' day. 
It's like auld wine that sparkles. 
With my sjitires, drunk they'll get; 
A glove-fit coat I've gien to some, 
Well penned my sketch, ye bet. 

In aulden time our mistresses, 
Were not the central figure; 
We did na give the preference, 
An' mak' them ten times bigger 
Than wife and daughter, sister, friend 



J PEN PICTURES. 219 

-^ . 

A throne we did not give; 

A furnished hoose, lang travels, 

In style the\' ciidna liv^e. 

But noo the times are different. 

The quean's the best of all; 

Her privileges are grit — ye gudes! 

An' her demands nae small. 

The quean she queens it, like a queen; 

The laird nid-nods her way; 

She boasts the power she holds o'er him, 

Her bills he has to pay. 



I wadna swap my pen, nae! nae! 

For all the stoek Hyde owns; 

I rhyme an' laugh an' laugh an' rhyme. 

While Dame Hyde greets an' groans. 

I'm oot o' all the gangs an' cliques, 

As birds in air I'm free. 

How do you like the seasoning. 

Of my Scotch "pot-pourri." 



I gae skj^rin' roun' with the potentates. 

With frankness and candor I say; 

Whan they gae cuddling their bonnie queans, 

I'm often in the way. 

A Secretary, a sweet-heart, 

Her laird I hypnotize. 

Ye gudes! ye bet your last plack, 

I gie them a surprise. 

I'm in the swim, I'm in the swim. 

Mediums these lairds are; 

An' in the play amang the queans. 

The climax I will star. 

I hypnotize, losli! they are mine, 

Rob Burns the qtteans will get; 



220 PEN PICTURES. 

. Nae matter whether one or three, 
Trowth! I'm there ve bet. 

It ma}^ be doiiii in Washington, 

Or here at the A n 

I've gat the passwords an' the grips, 
I affinitize relation. 
I'm in it all the same, I am; 
The coofs are tools for me; 
In time I'll ring the curtain down. 
Then, ring a Jubilee. 
April 30, 1900. 



TO FRANK L. STANTON. 



;^ E larn his li'l' lesson — 

He knows de golden rule; 
Bless God, he spellin' "baker" 
Des' lak' he bo'n in school I 

En w'en dat alphabet he see, 

'Fo' you kin tu'n eroun'; 
He roll it off from A ter Z, 

Den say it upside down! 

You ever see sich chillum? 

Dey gone froin we control! 
Wrop up his lunch dar Georgy — 

Lawd bless his liT soul! 

Frank L. Stanton. 

Ye liae entered the inner circle, frien', 

The guid folk read a' ye say; 
Ye've gat the key to the mystic hall, 

Ye're a vStar, i' the Poet's p\a.j. 




PEN PICTURES. 221 

Ye've gien the warl your "liT " sang, 

I've gat one ronn' somewharc; 
I'll sen' mine oot to the warl, noo, 
An' the honors wi' je share. 
Nov. 9, 1899. 

THE WENCH'S COMPLAINT. 



WAS bo'n dc same as white folks. 
In de good old fashioned way; 
But I'ze not'ing but a niggah, 
So I hear de peoples say. 
A niggah! — ah! what be he? 
Pie be nnffin, nufBn tall! 
It must be the sin of Eva, 
Hu't de niggah wust of all. 



I ofttimes look in de mirrah, 
An' dar I see de brackest face; 
An de white folks tink dc cnllah, 
Be a lastin' disgrace. 
De cuUah mak' de niggah lowly. 
We be nmble in this wuld; 
Wid our faces brack as spades, 
An' our hair so closely curled. 

It be nuf to dribe us mad, 

An' dis child's heart git sac sad; 

And I hate old muddah Eve, 

She did some tings sae bad. 

De lawd shuah got tings muddled 

When he made that nasty snake; 

I wondah if the story's true, 

Or, if 'tis a holy fake. 

De mirrah tells de story, 
Ob de cullah ob dis^ chil' 



222 PEN PICTURES. 

And de fact dat I be brack, 

Do niak' my temper rile. 

Foil de white folks pass me bj^ 

As tlio' I was a monkey or babboon, 

And der wards do haunt my soul, 

Ah! dey tink 1 am a coon. 

My lians be brack and shiuA^ 

Like de coal dats in de bin; 

And my hair it be so curly, 

But ize shuali it be no sin. 

De Lawd he mak' a niggah, 

I wondah if he knowd what he was 'bout? 

When he was sperimentin' wid his d3^e stuffs. 

He bettah left de niggah out. 

De Lawd he am a chemist, 

Sperimentin' all de time; 

Wid his cullahs and his d\'e stuffs. 

And de tings dat's in dat line. 

Oh! wdien he made a niggah, 

I tink it a mistake; 

He shud tinked out a blcachin' jn'ocess. 

Just foil de niggah's sake.. 

I spects de Lawd and muddah Eve, 

Did some tricks so very bad; 

And one was when dey made me brack, 

Oh! it mak' dis child so mad. 

And I swar I'll hab revenge, 

I'll tink it all out in de night; 

And no mattah what dis niggah do, 

I'll tink it be all right. 

Tho' I be black as ace of spades. 

My senses be all right; 

I bab de pow^ah of intdkct, 



PKN PICTURES. 223 

De same as any white. 

My soul am clean of eloery sin, 

My tensions am de best; 

And in de resurrection, 

I'll slide in with all the rest. 

Now — I'ze thought the mattali over, 

And I'll beat de Lawd some way; 

My chilren shall be whiter. 

Much whiter in de future day. 

I've praj^ed de Lawd to bless us. 

He cud do it if he will; 

But de Lawd he am so mulish, 

He sit on his throne so still. 

To our prayers he pay no 'tention, 

Prayers mount to ntiffin', nuffin' tall; 

De LawTl he never listen 

Neber listen to my call. 

So — I tink de mattah over, 

And I'll do just as I please; 

I'll mix de plans ob de Creator, 

Aj^e! de good Lawd I will tease. 

I'll just suade all de niggahs. 

To mak' de wdiite wenches dere wives; 

And I'll tell de brack wenches. 

To sacrifice der lives. 

Den far out in de future, 

Thro' Evolution's plans; 

We'll beat de Lawd in de cullah, 

Ob our daughters and our sons. 



224 PEN PICTURES. 

TO ANTONELLI. 



, ADDIE, a ward o' kin' advice, 
To 3^e I'd gie; 
That paintin' wark pat far awa'. 
Or, ye will see. 
Trouble an' disgrace I fear, 

Cum after ye. 
Sae mony psj'chics hae the itch 

To paint — to paint; 
An' what they gie the warl, wad mak'. 

An artist faint. 
Pciintin' — Phenomenon has cornered weel, 

That's what we see; 
Sae mon_v daub the slates, grit Gude! 

Auld Nick wad flee. 
They ca' it spirit wark, an' that, 

An' that, an' that; 
Ahint the doors, wecl locked we gac. 

As sice's a rat. 
We watch them wecl, their names we tak'. 

We'll see them later; 
An' whan we ring them, down, tlic^-'ll say, 

What is the matter? 
Naething o' paint ken we, nae! nae! 

Nae artist we. 
This, they say with lang smooth face, losh! 

Spirits can see. 
Nae far oot fricn's tliey'll fin' new fields. 

Those wha gac \vrang; 
Thase slcc, slick frauds, in time, will rot 

Witii Fraud's gangrene. 
S:ie, laddie pat your paint awa'. 

Your business niin'; 
Your gifts are wondrous fair. 

Stick to your kin'. 

K. B. 




WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN. 



PEN PICTURES. 225 



THE MONEY BAG LORD. 



^\. Rich man sat in his palace grand, 
'^'(k Leisurely smoking a hne cigar; 
^^%^ Said he: "I'm rich in bonds, Fm rich in land, 

^ Povert\^ will never my happiness mar." 
He was haughty and proud, cold and stern; 
Austere in manner, his servants did learn, 
That his temper was hot, that his words did burn, 
But a money-lDag lord was he, was he, 
A monej'-bag lord was he. 

His parlors were grand, room^^ and airj^ 
Trimmed, I ween, by the hand of a fairy; 
Bric-a-brac w^ork, and vases so fine. 
And ever3'thing else that comes in that line. 
Carpets of plush, oriental rugs. 
Covered with flowers, bees and bugs — 
Outvieing nature in color and beaut3'; 
Sureh' someone had done their dutj-; 
In trying to i)lease this mone3'-bag lord, 
This haughty monej^-bag lord. 

Covered the walls, with paintings rare — 
Grand old paintings from ever\^where; 
Thousands, yea, millions of dollars the^- cost, 
To someone 'twas gain, and he, nothing lost. 
Millions in bonds he has stacked awaj-, 
Strange it may seem that I should sa}', 
Government bonds are a fraud and a curse — 
What could the government h.nve done worse? 



226 PEN PICTURES 

But it suited the money-bag lords, 
Verily, it suited the money-bag lords. 

The money-bag lord he dines at three — 
I wish all men in the land eould see 
The china and silver that deek his table; 
It's all very well for the rieh man is able 
To live on rich soups and dainties rare, 
Fish and wild game prepared with care; 
The pastries, the jellies, fruit and old wine, 
Champagne, Bourbon, Gin, the best in that line; 
All for the money-bag lord. 
The arrogant mone3'-bag lord. 

The money-bag lord counts his bonds by the score, 
His houses so grand, say fifty or more; 
He owns a whole street, he views them with pride, 
While out in his coupe for a morning ride. 
Six white horses with trappings fine. 
Golden buckles and silken line; 
A liveried coachman and footman as well. 
Slaves oft times to a money-bag swell; 
Who from over-feed is dying with gout- 
He spurns the beggar and calls him a lout. 

Government bonds are free from tax — 

For the money lord 'tis slick as wax; 

He rubs his fat hands, and smiles in glee. 

And wonders if 3^et Uncle Sam can see. 

The gold-ring trap (it the masses will break;) 

From the hynotic sleep will he ever wake? 

The poor man is taxed on his shanty and barn 

On all of his money, his ten acre farm; 

While the man with the bonds goes free, goes free. 

The money-bag lord goes free. 

Millionaires were few a century ago. 
Now a man without a million or sq 
Is considered exceedingly slow. 



PEN PICTURES. 221 

In fact, he's quite "out of the swim," you know. 

Millionaires are the fashion — as plent\^ as illes; 

'Tis not by their brains, but by money they rise. 

Monopoly'- snares are everj'vvhere set. 

The honest poor man falls into their net; 

But povert3^'s victims are looking about, 

Gold monopolies Equity will route. 

The wage-worker's cry is heard far and near, 

And monopoly kings begin to fear 

Another Lincoln wUl appear on the scene, 

And disturb the bond-holder's dream, I ween. 

Emancipation will come once more. 

Dame P^uture has many good things in store. 

Agitation the government waters will roil. 

With wrong and injustice they foam and boil; 

But from out the storm a new ship w^ill rise, 

The captain and sailors will be men that are wise. 

They'll clean up the statutes, new laws they'll make, 

So that mone3'-bag lords, can't advantage take; 

They'll look to humanity's wants and needs, 

Run the government wdthout "Gold Bug" creeds. 

Government chaplains! bosh! a job that's slick! 

Eight dollars a da\'! 'twad tempt auld Nick. 

The shams and farces, red tape and all. 

Costs the government a sum nae small. 

Let the House and Senate for themselves pray. 
These ancient customs must pass avv-a3'; 
Government officers must live on less pny, 
Change must come, right is paving the w^a3^ 
Tiie poor men are tired of footing the bill. 
The poor men are slaves to Uncle Sam's w'ill; 
Uncle Sam's bureaus need looking o'er. 
There are secret drawers, a hundred or more — 
The secret springs, keys, combination and all, 
There's a monster p^^thon behind the wall. 
Fold after fold around vou it coils. 



228 PEN PICTURES. 

The victim crushed is the man who toils; 

MiUioiis of these, each in their turn, 

With sorrow and tears the lesson they learn. 

Too man^' star-boarders Uncle Sam has to feed, 

To meet this demand the people he must bleed; 

From the poor man's larder he steals chicken pie, 

He leaves the humble poor man salt pork to iry. 

Slaves! slaves to this Nation, true, oh men! 

When will you break Bondage's chain? when, oh! when? 

Watch Uncle Sam's flunkies expensively dressed, 

With finest of broadcloth his lords are blessed; 

He fills their pockets with silver and gold, 

While the poor man's last cow has to be sold. 

Uncle Sam's ladies, dress like peacocks fine, 

While the poor man's wife with her children nine. 

Counts her pennies which are very few, 

She seldom has enough to buy an3'thing new. 

The tables will turn, 'twill be slow but sure, 

A little while longer these wrongs we'll endure; 

A little w^hile longer government robbers w^e'll pay, 

A few w^eary 3'ears, then we'll have our own way. 

The money-bag lords will take a back seat, 

The poor people then will have plenty to eat. 

Watch the political sky, changes you' see; 
A prophesy 'tis, I am giving thee; 
A cyclone is coming, list to the roar! 
For the G. O. P. defeat is in store. 
Victory wdl hurrah! hurrah and laugh! 
While the people's mills blow out the chaff. 
The golden calf must give up it's life, 
Justice is now whetting the knife; 
Into oblivion's sea it must go. 
True is my prophcs\^ as you will know. 

A crisis is coming, a savior is here, 

List to a Bryan who speaks without fear. 



PEN PICTURES. 



229 



Watch the "Gokl IUi<2:s," \Yho turn with a leer, 

As they catch the wihl shout of the men who cheer. 

Oppression! Oppression! the juggernaut of the da}', 

The slogan will sound while you watch and pray. 

Beware! in their gold i^ress, 3^ou, they'll squeeze! 

Hang 3'ou as traitors to the limbs of trees! 

Mc gave 3'oa the warning, noxV vote for children and 

wives, 
In the name of self-preservation save your lives. 
On the eagle's perch a hawdc 3^ou will find, 
Gold chains are readv, the Goddess they'll hind. 
The masses and classes are now face to face. 
Oh! save the country from shame and disgrace! 
Stand vshoulder to shoulder and vote like men. 
Drive the gold p^-thon back to his den. 
November, justice will speak, as never before, 
"G. O. P.," shrieks the raven! "Never more! never 

more!" 



MEMORIAL TO MAJ. JOHN A. LOGAN. 



"^i^'^'^^ITH flowers and flags, 3'our coffin, decked. 
Cold, dead you lie on that bier! 
In Memorial Hall — an honored man, 
Your home-comino- sad and drear. 




With Christian savagerj^ ye fought, 
In the name of t\'rants bold; 

Shot ye were — b\^ a rebel? nae! 
Bv one from vour own fold. 



History repeats itself, 'tis said, 
The da^'s of Socrates are here; 

"Thirty Tyrants rule the land, 
And their allies are everywhere." 



230 PEN PICTURES. 




THREE STARS. 



OM Paul — "Billy" Mason — Agtiinaldo, 
Nae fools amang this clan; 
Men with pluck to do and dare, 
Ilka ane's a man. 
Moral courage they dinna lack, 
Their rights they dare defend! 
Great men are these, born for the hour. 
For freedom their strength they spend. 

Oom Paul stands on the highest peak. 

Of the battlement of Truth; 
And justice with her twa-edged sword, 

Protects auld age and youth. 
Oom Paul is savior to the cause. 

His guns are loaded well; 
An' gin the English dinna flee, 
He'll fire them into . 

An' Bilh^ Mason's wa^ch-eyc's oot. 

He'll turn the scarch-licht on; 
Ple'U ring the curtain oojo 3'ca, Sam! 

His lesson yc'll hae to con. 
Ahint the scene yc'll fm' the lad, 

The skunks for cover will flee; 
Yc'll pat nae gag on "Billy" -- nac! 

He's equal to the emergency-. 

Puir Aguinaldo, met Treachery, 
With a face, lamb-like an' meek; 



PEN PICTURES. 231 

He wasna weel acquaint ye ken, 
With Uncle Sam's brass and cheek. 

There's treasure in Aguinaldo's land, 
Sam's bosses have English greed; 

"Sam" and John Bull rub noses, 
The_v baith are English breed. 

The iron-shod hoof of England, 

Tracks mon}^ a foreign land; 
Where silver — gold — and diamonds are. 

There England takes her stand. 
Way down in Afric's Transvaal, 

The fight is on, ye ken; 
Afore the war is ended, 

Scotland will lose brave men. 

The diamond cit}', Kimberh- — 

England scents weel her game; 
The heads of state demand — command. 

Ha! England's the kintra of fame! 
The queen's most humble servants. 

Now face the cannon's roar; 
While sorrow watches in the hames. 

An' the raven cries "Nevermore." 

"Sam's" boys are aping John Bull's "High 
Breds," 

Aping the roj^al crew; 
The "Gold Bugs," have nested 'cross the sea. 

They've caught the English cue, 
"Sam's arms have reached to foreign lands, 

He's caught the English itch; 
By association and contamination. 

With the peoples that are rich. 

Sullied is Uncle "Sam's" honor. 

With the trcacher\' 'cross the sea; 
This administration is under a cloud, 



232 PEN PICTURES. 

Caused hj men — yea, three. 
McKinley — Hanna — Long, b^^ this triumvirate 

The kintra is led bj^ the nose; 
Bridled — and saddled and rode, 

In the high seats the plutocrats pose. 

The win's blaw Strang frae the wast, 

The win's blaw Strang frae the south; 
There's a moan in the win's, Misfortune's chant, 

A wail for the dj-ing ^^outh. 
Our boys sent off to war like dogs. 

Slaughtered like sheep in a pen; 
All for what? all for what? 

The blundering mistakes of three men. 

A cyclone looms in the northern sky, 

Civil war is abreast of the gale; 
The mistakes of those three men, 3'et, 

Will mak' this kintra wail. 
Four years mair with the like of this, 

And bluid will freely flow; 
For the spirit of war is contagious. 

And the plutocrats must go. 

O man! wad ye save this holocaust? 

Turn from Ruin's road; 
Quick! dam the tide that's flowing in. 

And lift the burdensome load! 
Mad men are rushing towards Destruction's pit 

A French Revolution, ye'U see, 
A Victor Hugo will historicize 

This a ])rophcsy. 
Jan. i), 11)00. Iv()in<:RT IUjkNvS. 



PEN PICTURES. 233 




CONTENTIOUS PEOPLE! 



The Canadians found a queer contention. They in- 
sisted that the question as to whether the coast of 
Alaska means the coast of the mainland or of islands 
in the sea. When a contentious people want to argue 
the\^ can alwa^'s find a way. — Buffalo News. 

ONTENTIOUS people," w^eel-a-day! 
The Devil's argument I w^een; 
O' the tail o' the business, ye caught a glimpse, 
The held, mon, 3^e hae na seen. 
Uncle Sam's lambs, hae been pla^^ing, 

Wi' the hairs on the lion's tail; 

He soon will hear them bleating, 

Wi' a mournful sort o' a w^ail. 

The British lion is watching oot. 

He skips wi' an open eye; 
His faith in Uncle Sam's honor. 

Has na the strength o' a fl^^ 
He kens the greed o' this nation, 

"Sam's" vultures want earth an' sky; 
An' the fight is on for supremacy, 

Ye'll see it a' b\^ and 133'. 

Might is a surly fellow, ye ken. 
He is pompous — puffed \yi' pride; 

He is a bloated monopolist, 
He tak's a berth that's wide. 



^34 PEN PICTURE^. 

His slaves are nion\' in this kintra, 

They are taxed to pay his bills; 
They kneel to the royal pliitoerats, 

An' dae whatever they will. 

Our bonnie lads, shot doon like tykes, , 

Sacrificed on a foreign soil; 
While the gods of the nation sit in state, 

Wi' saft han's that kenna toil. 
"Ha! ha! ha!'" laughs Uncle Sam's gods, 

"Filipinos are na fighting Spain;" 
Aguinaldo is caught in Uncle Sam's trap. 

And Treacher^' smiles at the slain. 

All are rebels, wha bend na the knee, 

Canada is rebelious, ye know; 
"Contentious people," that's what they say. 

But Canadians ye'll fin' are na slow. 
Israel Tarte — Sir Wilfrid Laurier, 

Are na daft I'm vera sure. 
These Lairds of Wisdom, ken wecl the case, 

They may yet fin' the cure. 

And Sir Charles Tupper isna asleep. 

He'll nae knuckle to Uncle Sam; 
He sounds the slogan loud and Strang, 

He's an independent man. 
Fair Canada will stan' her grun, 

She hasna reason to fear; 
Ye'll see Uncle Sam crawlin' roun', 

Makin' luve tae the bonnie dear. 

The auld British lion will swish his tail 

An' shake his touzie mane; 
Gin ye cross his path wi' your treachery Sam, 

Ye'll fin' auld Terror will reign. 
There's English, an' Scotch in his veins. 

An' b' gorry his shillalah ye'll feel; 



PEN PICTURES. S35 

Play nane o' your tricks wi' Canada, 
Gin vc do, it wiiina be weel. 

March 2, 1899. 
Oct. 1899. 

Sir Louis Davies, his field-glass turned, 

Frae North to South, ye ken; 
From Alaska to Africa, 

Down 'niang the Boer men. 
In the Transvaal, where the Uitlanders, 

Are ablaze with discontent; 
The trouble's been lang a brewing, 

On a fight, they all are bent. 

Queen Vic is in a puzzle. 

Her boys are in a row; 
There's a big fuss in her family, 

To the inevitable she maun bow. 
Sir Davies a "half-hitch," took on Sam, 

To a modus vivenda agreed; 
Sac Sam will hae to wait a bit, 

Of rest he's much in need. 

The warl is in a ttilzie fyke, 

The stars are all to blame; 
Losh! the gods of Astrology, 

Have pat oop the war-like game. 
Auld Jupiter is after Mars, 

Aquarius is the ruling sign; 
Uranus is posited in the eleventh house. 

Where the Dcil an' his imps will dine. 

October 2G they say, 

Jupiter and Mars will meet; 
Also Saturn and Mercury, 

That's the time ye'U greet. 
Scorpio with head erect, 

Authoritv will show; 



236 PEN PICTURES. 

England \Yill marshall ber forces, 
The boys to war will go. 

Grit Gude, Sam! call a halt, 

Ye'rc a pirate on the sea; 
Ye better kept your ships at hanie, 

Muckle better, it wad be. 
I fear ye've gat the swell-hcid, 

Your power ye want to show; 
Wi' the Filipinos ye pyke a fuss, 

'Tis a grit mistak' xq knaw. 

Ye better get your sel in shape, 

Britannia will box your lugs; 
Losh! 3'^e better sen' Dewey back, 

To bring hame those fightin' tugs. 
Britannia's gat the grit man, 

She'll gie ye blaw for blaw; 
An' Lady Canada — the lass. 

Is oop-to-date, ye knaw. 



WELL BEHAVED ENGLISHMEN. 



"PRINCE Christian Victor aide-de-camp to Gen. Hyld- 
yard was knocked down by concussion of a 100 pound 
shell bursting on a rock b\^ which he was sitting. 
The Prince behaved throughout with composure and 
dignity." 

REMARKABLE composure and dignity. 

Permeates all English acts; 
Excuse ni3^ weel meaning Scotch, 
Gif I relate cauld facts. 
The dignity of an English man — 
Losh! I've marked their methods well; 



PEN PICTURES. 237 

I'rae the liaiightv bow of Royalty-, 
To the nod of an English swell. 

Their attaeks on Ooni Paul's front, 

Is alwaj^s a gallant affair; 
The erawlin' oop Spion Kop, 

The falling into that snare, — 
English eomposure and dignit3^ — 

An English reality; 
Aeeording to established rules and codes, 

They exhibit great gallantry. 

"Aly soldiers!" says Queen Victoria, 

Oh, 3'es! gracefully the\^ die; 
And even in a wild retreat. 

With ilk man on a fly. 
The wires tick their failure, 

"The iDoys were all gallant;" 
What's left will gae hanie b\'-an-by, 

A damaged, but wdse remnant. 



METEMPSYCHOSIS. 



t^tj^^ID the sea-silt and the sea-sand. 

Sinuous and sinister fold on fold, 
Sliding and winding tortuously. 
Slips the sea-snake wierd and old. 
Longing with gleams of slumbrous fire, 
In her dull eyes, and fierce desire. 
In her slow brain, for that far time, 
When rising lotus-like, from ooze and slime. 
Her sinuous lithncss changed to subtle grace, 
Her sibilance melted to witching speech, 
She shall the heights of glorious being reach, 




238 PEN PICTURES. 

And lure her jDrey with woman\s form and face. 

Aklo Bates. 
METEMPSYCHOSIS. 
For main^ a week a monster vile, 
Has slept within its nest; 
Its snakish wants were quick supplied, 
And then it sought sweet rest. 
But now with hunger it comes forth, 
Into the light of da}^; 
I see the sparkle of its eye, 
It's looking out for preJ^ 

I see a girl of sweet sixteen. 
With eves of blue, and flaxen hair; 
The fairest of the fair, I ween — 
And diamonds rich and rare. 
Aa'c, 'tis plainly to be seen. 
She's Nobility's bonnie queen; 
P^'airy spirit, blithe and gay. 
You will meet grim fate today. 

With tiny basket in her hand. 

She comes in search of ilowcrs; 

The pretty groves with carpets green, 

Are nature's own sweet bowers. 

She little dreams of danger near. 

She trills a lullaby; 

And with her 1)road-brimmed hat slie runs,- 

To catcii a butterlly. 

The wily p_vthon spies the maid. 

On her its eyes are set; 

She sees — but stands like one transfixed, 

She's in the python's net! 

Vile charmer, with your weird, strange spell, 

Y^ou came not out in vain! 

This pure, fair girl so beautiful, 

Bv Yoii will soon be slain, 



FEN PICTURES. 239 



Bright one — fair one — loved one! 
She's spellbound in his toils; 
I see the python kiss her cheek, 
As 'round her form he eoils; 
He kisses her on brow and lips, 
Rests his head on her bosom fair; 
1 almost hear his snakeship laugh, 
As he thinks of the feast so rare. 

I wonder, and I wonder 
If this monster has a soul? 
And if some god intends. 
It shall reach a higher goal? 
If by the law of Aletempsychosis, 
It will be born into a man? 
Solve this prboblcm, scientists. 
Solve it if vou can. 



TO THE CRITICS. 



SA'JTREST I am — that's what you say, 

Withoot mercy, I my faes slay; 
■ Aften wi' Scotch, my frien's I tease. 

An' possibly nabody, can I please. 
But, gin I please my ain guid sel', 
The war! at large, will sa3^ 'tis well. 

Epigrams, epitaphs, sonnets an' sangs, 
Of this an' that, an' the puir folks wrangs; 
Pen pictures I mak', to nature they're true 
Sad I will be, gin they dinna please you. 
Ye mauna be dour, but read m^^ beuk thro', 
Ye'll fm' monv tUinsrs that are fetchin' an' new. 



240 PEN riCTURES. 

Afteii I write o' Poly Ticks' ways, 
(The Deil liimsel', is in it these days;) 
I write to watiken the sauls o' men, 
M^^ thochts to Earth this waj^ I sen'; 
Lang 3'ears for this wark, I did plan, 
Leuked for a psychic a' ower the Ian'. 

Noo critics, hae mercy, leuk weel what \'c say, 
Could ye do better? gif sae, then ye may; 
Dinna tin' faut wi' my logic an' fun, 
Losh! gin ye do, I'll lade my Scotch gun; 
I'll gae a huntin' the scarch-licht ye'll get, 
I'll fin' your weak spots, on that 3'e can bet. 

Shades of auld Moses! wi' my three-tae'd leister 

Ye'll fin' in the fight, that I am the maister; 

There was motn^ a laird,, wad gien his best 
meere, 

To coax me to write o' him, things that were 
fair. 

The man wi' the pin, oh! smile on him sweetly! 

Gin ye dinna do that, ye'll get dune oop com- 
pletely. 

Frien's, 1 bid ye fare weel, my compliments I sen' 
PVae heaven to Earth, to fae an' to frien'; 
An' remember that spirits, are here an' are 

there. 
The so ca'd deid, are ilka where. 
Thcw watch ye weel, ken all 3'^e do, 
Sae, to your spirit frien's be true. 



_^^- 




.^ 




MRS. MAGGIE WAITE. 



PEN PICTURES. 241 



TO MRS. H. S. LAKE. 



^HIS Easter da3% I wandered out, 
The warm sunshine to catch; 
An' roun' your hoose I Hngered lang, 
Amang that thorny snatch. 
Bushes and iDriers, stumps and all, 
The hoose seemed cauld and sad; 
A ghaist-like moan w^as in the air, 
An' naething bright or glad. 

That wee bit hoose perched on the hill, 

It tells a sorry tale; 
The add i' the paper twa-three j-ears, 

That hoose on the hill for sale. 
Ye, Inspirations's child turned out, 

A shoulder cauld ye got; 
Your wards of wisdom, we miss them. 

This mony say, I wot. 

Auld fossils tak' 3'our place, yea! 

With brains as dry as dust; 
Auld fossils tak' j^our place, ajel 

In their aura we sniff must. 
They give auld lectures dr\' and stale. 

Brought from a vault of rust; 
The truth is, Lily Dale Camp, 

Is cornered in a trust. 

Nae frien' or lover maun ye hae, 
An' Wait's oot in the cold; 



242 PEN PICTURES. 

Monopoly owns the business, 

And the hie lairds stern and bold. 

Ye manna infringe on the patent, 
Liive is na free for all; 

Ainlj' the few wlia pose in state, 
This royal crew is small. 

The man with gold and the man with nane, 

Their natural rights the same; 
The Congressman, and the plow-man, 

There's naething in a name. 
Gold buys the seat in Congress' hoose. 

He holds that seat for pay; 
The plow-man ])oor owns brains and wit, 

I've naething mair to sa}'. 

VERITE SANS PEUR. 

From Heaven, I liring not laws for 3'ou to follow; 
From Heaven, I bring a dose you cannot swallow. 
In Immorality's nest, I sa^^ not, 3'ou wallow; 

Not I! oh, no! 
If there's no sin, no crime, no shame and no disgrace. 
Morality and immorality are words much out of place; 
And justice and injustice, arc nowhere in the case, 

This must be so. 

Then, if a drink of beer 3"Our sister takes while you 

loll with 3' our lass. 
Don't scorch her w^ith 3'our fier3' wrath, just let it pass; 
And spirits good, for both of 3'e, will chant a mass; 

For her and 3^ou. 
Please grant to all the privileges that to yourself you 

take; 
Please follow every law and rule, that for itlicr folk 

3'e mak'; 
What's sauce for Meg is sauce for 3^e, sac play ye not 

the ; 

Adieu! adieu! 



PEN PICTURES. 243 



AGUINALDO'S ESCAPE. 



IKE the Irishman's queer flee, 
The laddie, 3'e canna lind; 
'S^y Like the fairies o' atilden time, 
He gies 3'e iill the "bUnd." 
Noo here — noo there, an' ilka where, 

But the war gaes on the same; 
Ye dinna want the laddie, nae! 
Ye're liuntin' roun' for fame. 

War is guid for the kintra, 

Prices gae oop, \'e ken, 
Sae ye monkey an' maneuver, 

Min' na the sufferin' men. 
"Wall street" smiles at the war news, 

5,000,000 the Goodyear's have made; 
An' billions an' billions the gold kings get, 

"Oh! the kintra maun be saved!" 

Oh! what a farce, what a damnable farce! 

The Peoples are led by the nose; 
The leaders of the war are scoundrels. 

The villains of the world — they pose! 
Gude pity the boys, wha fell in the trap, 

Like tykes led 00 1 to slaughter! 
Hear the mithers an' lassies wail — 

Sister, wife an' daughter! 

Losh! McKinley and Mark Hanna, 
Wink and blink like owls; 



244. PEN PICTURES. 

The Goddess Peace, scornlulh^ watching, 
Honor wears iinrky scowls. 

"Land will go up, and hay and beans," 
O God! what a soulless crew! 

Our boys in blue, butchered like swine. 
Here is a picture for you! 

Stick to your Republican masters, 

Monarchs the3^ are in a way; 
This, a Tom Paine "Crisis," 

Croesus, the scepter does sway. 
Reincarnated is Nero, 

For blood they carena a whit; 
Do you w^ear the Republican bridle? 

Ye ken weel the spur an tlie bit. 
Nov. 25, 1899. 



TO ALEXANDRIA PRINCESS OF WALES. 



Princess' Message: 

My heart bleeds for the poor widows and fatherless 
whose loved ones have met glorious deaths in lighting 
for their Queen and countrj^ May God help and com.- 
fort them in this their saddest Christmas, and give 
them that peace that passeth understanding. 

Alexandria, Princess of Wales. 

Dec. 12, 1899. 

OR the fatherless and widows. 
Your heart bleeds, Lady fair; 
Waste na your blae bluid, Lady, 
O' your heart tak' mickle care. 
Ye'U need 3'our heart, fair Lady, 
An' your heart will need its bluid, 




PEN PICTURES. 245 

I'or a cliilh' time is cumin' 
In the caulcl waves of a fludc. 

You sa3% those loved ones — Lady, 

Met glorious deaths in fighting; 
'Twas an awful disaster, 

But justice, her business is righting. 
For the Queen, they fought na, Lady! 

ThcA' are slaves to political schemes! 
To teil one half the truth, Lady, 

Wad tak' ten thousand reams. 

For their kintra, tlie\^ arena fichtin', 

The\' are thieves on a foreign soil; 
Robbers stealin' the rights o' men. 

The rights for which the^- toil. 
England, is your kintra, 

All others she has stole; 
She has lang arms, an' claw-like han's, 

An' stealin' has been her goal. 

For stealin' a wee bit loaf of bread, 

A man wad gae to jail; 
But England can steal hail kintras, 

She's always on the trail. 
Her scouts are here, her scouts are there. 

They'll squat like a settin' hen; 
Then sen' her sodgers, wi' spears an' guns, 

Ye ca' them Honor's men. 

"Glorious deaths! glorious deaths"! 

"For the Queen an' her kintra!" 
Oh! the horrible sham o' royalty'! 

Oh! 3'e "Blae Bluids" better pray! 
The Queen's, a moss-grown figure-head, 

The warl kens weel this truth; 
Auld men shake their grizzled heids. 

And Truth, leads Wisdom's youth. 



246 PEN PICTURES. 

"May God help an' comfort them," 

Fathers — husbands — luvers, all slavesi 
Under the power of a monarchy, 

Controlled by robbers an' knaves. 
View the Queen's lang line of (relative) paupers, 

This the maist damnable farce; 
Ireland, Scotland, India, Egypt, Africa, 

By tyrant's rule is cursed. 

Militarism, hands hie court. 

The cannon is ahint the throne; 
Freedom gagged, Libert}^ in chains, 

Do you hear the sodgers groan? 
Your Queen sits on a stolen throne, 

Your Prince is the son of thieves; 
In silence sits the dethroned queen, 

She kens ye a parcel of knaves. 

"May God give peace that passeth understanding. 

Grit Gude! thc}^ understand! 
There's a cry of vengance in their groans, 

'Gainst the rulers o' the land. 
Scotland's braw hieland laddies, 

To slaughter marched off like sheep; 
The flesh an' bluid of Scotland's sons, 

Fertilize the soil where the}' sleep. 

All in the name of a monarch}^. 

Where the few control the masses; 
Micht, wields the scepter of power. 

And Distinction, honors the classes. 
Your Colonial Secretary, Chamberlain, 

Commands — demands, like a king! 
But owre the heids o' your gudes, Lad}^, 

Revenge a storm will bring! 

Gatacre — Methune — Duller, 
The British generals defeated; 



PEN PlCtUR^S. 24t 

Justice her wark has commenced, Lacl\% 

But the victon^ is na haU' completed. 
Twa-three years ago, Lady, 

In a foreign kintra, England's sons, 
Bound her captives to the cannon's mouth, 

Blew them to with her guns! 

A lang line o' tragedies, lie at your door, 

Briitalit\^ is your weapon of wars; 
For the wrangs auld England has dune, Lad3', 

Her face wears monj' black scars. 
"A day of prayer and humiliation," 

Let the slaves of your colonies praA'; 
Pray for the death of auld Monarchy, 

The hale warld will welcome that day. 



A THOUGHT. 



RAE Thought-Land cam' Dame Thought one day, 
Wanchancie was that day! 
In her meanderings she met m3^ frien', 
Strollin' lang the way. 
Fidgin' Thought, conceived a thought. 

She planted it in his brain; 
An' frae that thought sprang mony thoughts, 
They formed a weird thought train. 

First, 'twas like gas, a filmy thought, 

vScarce substance enough to hold; 
Aye, aye! Dame Thought nursed it weel. 

The Carl in is subtle an' bauld; 
Into a solid form it came, 

It loomed oop a thing with life; 



248 PEN PICTURES. 

An' thought, tho' it was, it breathed. 
An' its voice was the voice of Strife. 

I received this Thought, with Sorrow's e'e, 

'Tis the same auld stor\' again; 
Sae sadlj^ I'm misunderstood, 

B3' women, an' b3^ men. 
The prejudice o' mony min's. 

Acting on one, an' anither; 
Noo by Dame Thought, I'm scotched, I ken, 

She has turned frae me a brither. 

I'll write my frien' this vera day, 

That "Thought" a corpse shall be; 
I'll do my best to slay it, 

It is na frien' to me. 
I'll tak' its life, aye, that I will! 

High mass for it I'll say; 
A respectable funeral it shall have, 

Ere the dawnin' o' neist day. 

Frien', it shall be just as ye say, 

Gin cauld I am to thee; 
I'll freeze ye oop sae solid, frien', 

F'orget, ye winna, me. 
Pride is haughty, she geeks her heid, 

I winna bow to thee; 
I'll turn awa' sae proudly. 

My pride frien', ye will sec. 

The little Scotch that I possess. 

Will flash wi' gleams o' fire; 
Excelsior, shall be mj^ cr3^! 

I'll mount a little higher. 
My bonnet blue, I'll wave to thed', 

Ye can follow gin \'e will; 
Gif ye dinna pat that thought awa', 

I'll sen' ye a bitter pill. 



PEN PICTUKEvS. 249 

I play my cartes sac very wtcl, 

A straight flush I do hold; 
I stake my all upon this han', 

I'll pla3^ them square an' bauld. 
Na matter wha pla3's anent me, 

Magic is mine b^^ dower; 
Through the invisible frien's, 

I wield a mighty- power. 

A frien' we are to frien', ye'll see, 

An' fae we are to fae; 
We hand nae secret frae the warl, 

Mystery's nae in th' play. 
They wha draw the claymore, 

Will hear the clash o' steel; 
An' the Dcil in H 1 canna resist, 

The hard blaws that we deal. 

Frien', I'll drink to your health gin ye will, 

But gin dour ye're inclined to be; 
Like a Spartan I'll meet ye fair, 

AVi' a smile, I'll pass by ye. 
For 3'e my heart will never break, 

An' gin it sud, ye'll never ken; 
I'll smile an' laugh an' happy be, 

Oh! I'll be kin' to ither men. 

I am the same Consuelo, 

A woman wi' haughty pride; ^ 

He wha phijs loose an' fast wi' me, 

Can never ca' me bride. 
E'en tho' ye be a gowden Prince, 

Diamond cut diamond 'twill be; 
Anzolctta, I'll wed the Prince o' Poverty, 

But I winna bow to 3'e. 

Ye can mak' o' me an angel. 
Or a devil as 3'e will; 



250 PEN PICTURES. 

Ye can Avritc, for me Destiny's pla3% 

The first place I will fill. 
Gie nic the laughing drama, 

I'll laugh tho' my hear docs brak'; 
Or gin 3^e will, I'll play tragic qnccn 

A success in that I'll mak'. 



Ye can mak' o' me an' angel, 

Or a devil as yc will; 
In the theater o' Life frien', 

Grandly m\^ place I'll fill. 
Aye! I'll honor m^^ position, 

The warld will list — 3'e'll see; 
I haud the magic key to sauls, 

Rich gifts are gi'en to me. 
Nov. 1888. 



TO THE HON. JOSEPH ISRAEL TARTE. 

"The country has already spent nearly $2,000,000 
to send two contingents to Africa. These figures show 
wdiat war is and what will be our responsibilty. 

**If we are to take part in all conflicts of Europe, 
instead of develojoing our resources and improving our 
coflntry w^c will spend our monej- in armaments for 
w^ars in which Canada has no direct interest." 

Tarte, Minister of Public Works, Canada. 

LESSIN'S on j^our pow man, 

The slogan ye daur gie; 

Ye are nae cowrin' coward. 

That, a' men can see. 

A cat's paw for auld England — 

Your pride's too hie for that; 




PEN PICTURES. 251 

Your opinions man, I like tlicm wecl, 
Ye'vc gat them doon noo, pat. 

That's what I ca' a tartc mcsFagc, 

A digester ma}- it be; 
Its meanin', sure, there's nae mistak', 

Wi' oot glasses the^- can see. 
The Ro^^alt}^ will stare and wonder, 

"Oh! that independent weanf 
We've loot them hae too lang a rape, 

That is plainh^ seen." 

Canada is noo of age, 

She'll care wecl for hersel'; 
She canna spare her bonnie lads. 

War is the Deil's ain hell. 
The glides o' war wdia sit in state — 

An' sleip on beds o' down; 
Their slaves — O Gude! what do w-e see? 

In the name of "kintra" slain. 

Whan such men as Joe Chamberlain, 

Create a hellish strife; 
An' such men as McKinlev, 

Sacrifice human life. 
Then is the time that men like 3'e, 

Maun Stan' for honesty; 
That is the time that men like ye. 

Maun represent decencv. 

The Ian' is full o' conspirators, 

Wha plot with sneak-thieves bold; 
The Ian' is full of gold-mongers. 

The lives of men are sold; 
Sold in the mart like sheep an' kye, 

Sad, 3'ea, sad but true; 
Humanit3' asks protection. 

Liberty kneels to 3-0 u. 
Feb. 12, 1900. 



252 - PEN PICTURES. 



4 



TO JOSEPFl RODES BUCPIANAN. 



•N niy hame noo rests your Lady, 

Sae happy an' content; 
She wonners hoo it cam' aboot, 

I tauld her she was sent. 
The ways o' folk are strange enongh, 

The lead hi' they canna see; 
The plannin' o' the invisibles, 

Arc vera weel kend b}^ 3^c. 

A spiritist, an' a sensitive, 

Man, I see you are; 
Oot i' the misty future, 

Ye'll be a shinin' star. 

Doun the raid o' Auld King Time, 
Your warks will be carried by Fame; 

In the centuries tae come, man, 
Truth will chant your name. 

Wisdom's bairn yc arc, man, 
Ye're a power on Truth's throne; 

Ye mak' Dame Superstition wince — 
Auld Orthodox will groan. 

Ye fear nae fae, nae yc, man, 

Ye are the frien' o' Truth; 
The priest an' Pape ye'd set aside. 

An' save frac them the vouth. 



FEN PICTURES. 253 

Ye bear the torch o' Liberty, 

Moiiy will see the lieht; 
All' turn frae the sliddery raid o' Wrang, 

They'll seek the raid o' Kieht. 

Man is a slave tae man's law, 

Freedom ye'd gie tae all; 
Ye'd mak' the new-born man sae true, 

That Law wad never call. 

Shelley an' Rob will ring the changes. 

We are nae deid but lee; 
We're gaun tae hand the fort, man. 

Ere lang the buke ye'll see. 

The same auld style o' sayin' things, 

I write wd' a pen o' fire; 
I hand the same eat o' nine tail, 

'Neath my lash, wrang will transpire. 

Ye've nae sae vera lang to stay. 

Your wark winna be done; 
The finishin', I see, man, 

Maun be left to anither one. 

Transition's morn is dawnin', 

Heaven's sunlight 3^ou will see; 
Progression's choir will greet you, 

With Yictor\^'s Jubilee. 
October 1895. 



254 PEN PICTURES. 



LINES IN A LETTER TO MRS. ELIZABETH 

BUCPIANAN, WIFE OF 

PROF. JOSEPH RODES BUCHANAN. 



MAUN tell ye o' those folk, Lady, 
Wecl — fricn'I they gat thegither; 

Ae hoosic, ane ingle-lowe, alake! 
Ye ken it's stormy weather. 

Hypnotism, Infatuation, CrecUilit}^ 
Then Inve as some folk dae, 

They'll never stap for a bed o' down. 
They'll cudille in pease-strae. 

The warl is fu' o' donsie fides, 

Content they eaniia be; 
Iluntin' 'ronn' for happiness. 

To the vera da^^ they dee. 
An' gin thei^ get the thing they want, 

Tapsalteerie 'twill turn somehow; 
An' Disappointment mak's them greet, 

Daviel^' b^^ the ingle-lowe. 

Greetin', greetin' — greet in', hech! 

I'd rather sleep in my eot; 
An' wake wi' the loverock i' tli' morn, 

'Tvvad be better for a', I wot. 
Luvers I hae nane, nane! 

Like the wee braw birds I'm free; 
Content wi' my lane eondition, 

I canna wi' Cupid agree. 



PEN PICTURHS. 255 

My gowd an' siller, I can spend, 

Wi' na man, will I divide; 
I'd rather gie it tae the weans, 

In them, I tak' meikle pride. 
Leak at the queans a huntin' roiin', 

Searehin' for a man; 
Losh! they soon tire, an' pray to Gude, 

To tak' him quick's he can. 

I'll never forget the day that we, 

Cooked our broo thegither; 
An' crooned o'er the ingle-lowe, 

Or list to some earlin's blether. 
An' hoo ye sheuk the maskin'-pat, 

Whan fricn's were here to tea; 
I aften laugh, whan I think o't, 

I'm sure 'tis sae wi' ^-e. 

The maskin-pat was passed aroun', 

Frae Marshall to Aunt Marie; 
An' the fortune that we gat that nicht, 

The Deil wad smile to see. 
I wonner, an' I wonner, 

Gif that fortune w411 cum true; 
Sud that fortune materialize, 

A braw^ goun I'll sen' you. 
r^eb. 8, 1896. 



256 PEN PICTURES. 



TO DR. RICHARD HODGSON, L. L. D. 

OF THE 

AMERICAN PSYCHICAL RESEARCH SOCIETY. 



AAI my Lady's guard an' guide, 

Her gifts 3^e'll find are rare; 
She is ayont the price o' gowd; 

I gie the best of care. 
She is a model psj'chic — 

Is na afore the warl; 
She fears the jealous jads an' tykes. 

Their snash at her micht birl. 

Twal months my Lady has refused, 

To write that letter for me; 
"I'd get m^^sel' in a tulzie fyke," 

The point she cudna see. 
But Patience is my guiding star, 

I've jogged her min' sae aften; 
Wi' Luve's kin' ward an' gentle pat, 

I've tried her heart to saften. 

"Ding down the nest an' the rooks will flee," 

Tykes will fley fashous swine; 
I am ane o' "The Twa Dogs," 

There is nae time to tine. 
"Do well an' dread nae shame," 

"Fool's haste isna speed," ye ken; 
"Honesty is the best policy," 

"Do richt an' fear na men," 




WILLARD J. HULL. 



PEN PICTURES. 25' 



i 



TO WILLARD J. HULL. 



.1v HY do Spiritualists talk of God, 
I J And call that God a "He?" 
Ipli It is the talk of coofs, I'm svire, 
^ With them I canna 'gree. 

I've scouted 'rouii for mony a j^ear, 

An' God I canna find; 
To hide himsel' frae me, weel! 

I think it isna kind. 
I'm vera guid upon the scent, 

A scout in life, was I; 
Noo, Willard Hull, 1 tell ye true, 
That stor\^ is a lie. 

Yc gie the truth, the hail, braid truth, 

B\' Hull the truth is gien; 
"The Light of Truth" shines brightly. 

Plainly Truth's light is seen. 
Y''e furl Truth's banner to the breeze. 

It never falls half mast; 
Nae! on the highest point of staff. 

Truth's flag waves in the blast. 
Ye stand erect and face the foe, 

Admiral, in Truth's war; 
Lead on! your goal is victory! 

The Hull play ye will star. 



258 PEN PICTURES. 



'BRAVE BILL" ANTHONY. 



The Maine's sergeant of marines, who took his own 
life in Central Park and was saved from the morgue 
and Potter's Field by the intervention of the Editor 
of the Philadelphia Times. 

^^^^ WAS past the midnight hour, 
Three men consulting sat; 
McKinley — Hanna — Long, 
A private political chat. 
"We'll send the Maine tomorrow, 
Tomorrow the Maine shall go;" 
The beautiful Maine faced Destiny, 
Like a hero, met death's blow. 

Feb. 15, 1898. In Havana harbor, 

Blown up the battleship Maine; 
'"Sir, I have the honor to report, that the ship 
has been blown up and is sinking," 

With the coolness of Mark Twain, 
"Brave Bill" told Captain Sigsbee, 

Of the horrible disaster; 
Danger did not daunt him, 

Commander of self — the master. 

Fathers — husbands — brothers — sons. 

Murdered in the name of War; 
O 3^e dead servants of Slavery! 

This, Honor's name docs mar. 
The dead boys wrapped in the Stars and Stripes, 



PEN PICTURES. 259 

(A newspaper honor ye ken;) 
'Tis sneh an honor in old Glor\^ to He! 
(So sa^^ Republiean men.) 

O niithers! weep nae for A'our laddies! 

The President opened Death's door; 
O wives! weep not for your husbands! 

A pension for you is in store. 
O lassies! weep nae for your luvers! 

Tlie\'' sleip in auld Glory's embrace! 
To die for their kintra — their master 

Ithers will tak' their place. 

Now "Brave Bill" Anthony is dead and cold, 

The "Hero of the Maine"; 
A pauper's hospital — the morgue — the Pau- 
per's held, 

For the "Hero of the Maine", 
The "Hero" was forgotten, 

The glor^^, as dead as he; 
No stars or stripes were offered. 

An object lesson v^^e see. 

The political rulers make tools of men, 

The\' are dummies for their use; 
Like Jackasses, are led the masses, 

TlicA' carry the flag of truce. 
And blear-e\'ed fathers and mothers. 

Tread in auld Polly Ticks' mill; 
To the sphinx of War, sacrifice their lads, 

Sad the fate of poor "Brave Bill." 

Thanks to the editor of the Times, 

Honor touched your brain; 
And the telegram flew o'er the wires, 

You forgotna "Brave Bill, of the Maine," 
New York with her gold-plate aristocracj^, 

Nid-nods to the God of War; 



260 PEN PICTURES. 

But to remember "Brave Bill Anthony, 
She cudna get that far. 
Dec. 1, 1899. 



LIEUTENANT JOHN WOODBURN OSBORNE, 
TORONTO CANADA. 



"A graduate of the Royal Military College, Kingston, 
Age 27, Sacrificed at Spion Kop." 

LADDIE o' the Scotch rifles, 

(That's what the papers sa}^;) 
Sacrificed to the gods o' war, 

An unjust, hellish fra}'. 
Fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, 

Wounded, dying, dead; 
Greed holds the scepter of the throne. 

Lead on, Chamberlain, lead! 

The old Queen with her retinue, 

Of paupers, a thousand or more; 
Feeding, feeding, from the public crib. 

Beggars at the royal door. 
These on velvet cushions sit, 

I'or these the boys are fighting; 
But the judge and jury of justice, 

The royal crew are indicting. 

The braw lads with duddics puir, 

Like beasts sent out to fight; 
An' the cultured lads with brain an' brawn, 

Sacrificed to Greed an' Might, 
O the awful, awful farce! 

Fighting for glory and Queen! 



Pm PICTURES. 26l 

Such hollow mockery, O God! 
Is seldom — seldom seen. 

Time brings changes, strange changes, 

England's blue blood is black; 
The monarchial sham will end some day, 

'Twill vmjoint on the anld-timc rack. 
God's mills grind slow but sure, 'tis said. 

They are grinding ver^^ fine; 
And the husks the^^ hae gien to others, 

On such, tliev vet .iiav dine. 



Jan. 25, 1900. 



WHAT I HEARD. 



I. 

t^OLD blows the wind! fierce the storm without! 
The large white, feathery, flakes fall thick an' fast. 
Who's on the raging sea to-night? 
I hear the creak of the swaj'ing mast! 

High roll the billows! — the waves are mad! 
The trough of the sea is hard to find; 
The cabin is filled with dance and song, 
They see not the sailors groping storm blind. 

IL 

"On with the dance! on with the dance! 
Let's be merr^^ and dance while we may! 
Let not the chimes of the viol cease, 
What matters it, whether we dance or pray. 

"One more waltz, we'll keep time to the wind, 
Our souls will be fired by the spirit of the gale; 



262 PEN PICTURES 

Blow on! blow on! 'till the storm god is blind! 
There's music in the wind an' the hail!" 

III. 

"I'll shake the dice for a winner's throw, 

In mj^ kick I'll forget the stormy weather; 

If I win, the pot is mine, ye well know, ye well know, 

We'll spend it all for wine and drink together." 

IV. 

*'Sonsie lads be gay, dance away, dance away. 
Life, is a weary mixtie-maxtie widdle; 
Auld I am an' lame, auld I am an' gray, 
Nae mair can I keep time to the fiddle. 

"Oh! I lo'ed the lassies weel, lo'ed the lassies weel, 
But noo I'm auld an' held an' gray's my hair; 
I was a sonsie chiel a braw sonsie chiel', 
But noo mj^ face is marked with lines of care." 

V. 

"Oh! this is a fearful — fearful night! 
My soul is filled with dread and fright! 

I have millions left behind. 

Those who get it, will not mind, 
Tho' I'm fed to sharks to-night. 
They will say that it's all right. 

I shiver at the thought of Death, so near! 

Ma^ heirs will never shed a tear." 

VI. 

"I am queen in foreign land, A'ca, 

Mighty power have I; 
Armies — navies at mj^ command — 

Here, powerless — I die. 
The storm-god leers like some mad thing, 

And screams with the whistling wind; 
The imps of hell hold high carnival. 

Our prayers they do not mind. 



PKN PICTURES. 263 

This creaking ship a toy on the waves, 

Tossing about like a ball; 
The all-powerful — the mighty, how weak! 

The great and wise, how small! 

"When I'm laid low, in the deep, 

In Ocean's cradle rocked to sleep — 

Kissed by Ocean's cruel waves, 

Who will rule my slaves? 

Will my vassels mourn for me? ' 

Would to God that I might see!" 

VII. 

"Come my darling, let us pray, 
God sees all, hears all I say; 
God can save us if he will! 
Hark! the winds, how wild an' shrill! 
See the lightnings fearful flash! 
Hear the thunder's awful crash! 
Oh! the God who rules can saj^ 
Peace — be still, let us pray!" 

VIII. 

"Captain, tell us of the night! 
I am faint, with dread and fright! 
Must we die? Oh! must we die? 
God forbid! that such as I, 
In a bed of water lie! 

1 have diamonds, I have gold! 

All my treasures shall be sold! 

All I have, I'll give to thee. 

If on land, you'll set me free!" 

IX. 

"Hark! 'tis the captain, he blows one shrill blast! 
Cut away, cut away, down with the mast! 
Neptune's on a spree, the furies dance in glee! 
A thousand devils, revel in the waves of the sea!" 



264 PEN PICTURES. 

"Ring the danger bell! fire the minute gun! 
Gude will reap a hairst ere the niornin'; 
Ocean's mouth is wide! Death will claim a bride, 
Ere the rising sun, there'll be maurnin'! " 

X. 

"Just a moment, Captain Porter, I am parson Brown, 
You can save us Captain, if j^ou will! 
There's an infidel, Captain, in the cabin. 
Throw him over! God will say, peace, be still!" 

XI. 

"I'm an infidel, parson, an' n^y crew are all the same, 
An' my wife an' son an' daughter are on board; 
Hech! the infidel "Bob" is a man o' warld wide fame, 
I wad save them frae a watery graft" an' shroud." 

"Gin a Jonah's on the brig, we'll gae doun, parson 

Brown! 
I will shak' the dice tae see, gin it be ye; 
God forbid! God forbid! let us pray, captain, pray! 
I'll run the risk of being saved by God's decree." 

XII. 

"Morning dawned with brightest sun, 

Glintin' on the shattered mast; 

The jolly tars sang songs with Mirth and Glee, 

And the parson thanked his God 

As he broke the morning fast. 

That he was not at the bottom of the sea. 

"Said the Captain to the parson, 

*Weel-a-day! weel-a-day! 
We are richt side oop wi' care, parson Brown, 

An' I fin' that 'Bob', played poker, 

'Bob,' ye ken's a jolly joker. 
He can smile at Death, while ye, parson, frown.' " 



PEN PICTURES. 261 

'"Noo, I am gatin tae telt ye parson, 

I tclt ye what 3'C dac, 
O' ye're tliocht ye better tak, imicklc care; 

I wadna pyke a fnss, 

Or get in a lialy muss, 
Bat your thochts, parson, wa^na vera fair.' 

" 'Sae, I maun telt 3'e parson, 

I telt ye what it is; 
Gin \'e sud strike my brig some ither day, 

Speik unkindly nae o' 'Bo?),' 

Ye'll fin' it a sorry job, 
I'll gie 3-e, just ten minutes — to pray.' 

"'I'll sae 'twas Gude's decree, 

I will cast ye in the sea, 
An' I'll play that ye're the Jonah of Auld Time; 

Then for Heaven ^^e'll set sail, 

I will whistle for a wdiale, 
An' we'll loot the poets tell it a' in rhyme.'" 



TO GLADYS. 



HE path of glorj' ever since, 
Time first began was rock}-; 
The public first salutes a prince. 
And then salutes a jock5\" 

An' sae the busy warl wags on, 
Nid-noddin' lang the way; 

Smilin', frownin' keekin' — hech! 
Oh! we care na what thcv dae. 



266 PEN PICTURES. 

One, possessed of the ''Evil eye," 
Anither an angel born; 

One possessed of beauty — health, 
Anither, sad, forlorn. 

One is judged by what you see, 

The intention isna known; 
Years pass, and time reveals, 
A scene that wasna shown. 

Sac, be it jocky, or be it prince. 

Or be it this or that; 
The raid to Fame is rock}^, 
Ye'll fin' it afore ye quat. 



TO A. M. BARNUM. 



H! the wee bonnie bairns! 

Be sae carefu' o' their niiu's. 
As the wee bit twig is bent, 
Sae the tree inclines. 
The principles o' truth. 

An' the principles o' right; 
It winna do to tamper with. 
Duty we mauna slight. 

Oh! the wee bonnie bairns! 

On their teachers they depend; 
Oh! the errors some do mak'. 

Are often hard to mend. 
Like a wee bud in spring time, 

That drinks the April shower; 
An' comes forth with the sunshine, 

A rose, through Nature's power. 



PEN PlCTUREvS. 267 

Sac the wee bonnie bairns, 

Drink in all they see an' hear; 
Oh! the saul sud be guided, 

With Love, and not with Fear. 
Unfoldmcnt comes each day and hour. 

An' the niakin' of the man; 
Commences with the early life. 

This is Dame Wisdom's plan. 

Oh! the wee bonnie bairns! 

With the mither gaen awa'; 
Ilka ane, maim be carefu'; 

Wrang mauna come ava. 
The better nature in the wean, 

Maun be nourished in life's morn; 
Then manhood's true nobilitj^ 

Life's autumn will adorn. 



Responsibility says, beware, 
A father has sae little care; 

Gowd an' siller he may pay, 

For the care they get each day; 
But the growth of saul is great, 
Sae, beware, ere 'tis too late. 

Mon}^ a wean's gaen Ruin's wa^^ 

W^hase nurse cared simph^ for the pay. 

"Ye shape the shoonby ye're ain shackled feet," 
Negligence mak's the wean incomplete. 
Twisted an' gnarled, bracken an' blastit, 
Whan the Ijuddin' time is ignored an' wastit. 
He that sleeps with t3d^es, with flees maun rise, 
Sae fathers — mithers, open weel 3^our ej'cs. 



266 PEN PICTURES. 



TO FEDORA. 



;tj)0 get the writing in this beuk, 
I've had a deal o' trouble; 
Naething I do is understood, 

I hear the atild jads iDiibble. 
Thegither they pat their noses, 

Their lang tongues wag an' wag; 
An' the talkin' aboot me an' mine, 
Oh! they gie us a hea\w jag! 

Like the editor, wha prowks aroun', 

For something to prent i' the paper, 
He follows the rich, he follows the puir, 

A sort o' political scraper. 
A force machine, his question pump, 

Ye are In-pnotized to tell; 
An' ye wish to gude, ye'd tatild the man. 

To take the raid to . 

Gif Fni gaun to tak' the train at nine, 

An' I've nae a moment to spare; 
I winna stap for the yelpin' tykes, 

Wha'd spier me to ken whar 
I'm gann — wha to see — what for, 

An' a' that an' that; 
I'll tak' m}- gate, weel shot o' them, 

An' the gabbling geese can cpiat. 

Alakc! into this we get, into that we get, 
We maun ken what the queer folk do; 



PEN PICTURES. 269 

All' whan they sec us cum an' gac, 
What they say wad niak' ane blue. 

We're after the facts in the case, frien', 
We turn the search-licht on; 

An' then we write it oop frien', 
Noo the queer things ye can con. 



TO ANGOLINA. 



NDER Trouble's juggernaut, 

Lady, ye were crushed; 
/ Sae ponderous was the michty weight. 

Quickly your heart beats hushed. 
The storm cam' like an avalanche, 

A cyclone of horrible mein; 
Ye were stunned \yV the awful tragedy, 
Mair deid than alive, I ween. 

Ye didna deserve the blaw, 

This truth guid spirits ken; 
Mony are the friens wha say this, 

So sae Honor's men. 
Banished frae your hame thro' Treaclier3' 

The jad will get her till; 
Dishonor planned an' pla3'ed the trick. 

She'll bow to Fate's hard w^U. 

She's buckled oop to a jackass, 
A monkej^ with a vera sma' brain; 

Altho' he is a sensitive, 
An' "rings" on the medium's train. 

Yet for a' that an' a' that, 
What — has — she — gat? do tell! 



270 PEN PICTURES. 

Ye are wecl shot o' the imp, 
I'd tell them to gae to . 

Ye'U rise sae far aboon them, 
They'll nae see the tail o' yoitr kite; 

Ye'll sleip in a bed wi' Peace — 

She'll court a s wither an' fight. 

Your frien' ye thotch her, Lad}^ 
She'll cross the ''Bridge o' Sighs;" 

It pays na to win bj^ treachery, 
It pays na to win by lies. 

Bide-a-wee my Lady Luve, 

The cartes we'll deal for ye; 
'J'here's one niair game to play, 

Ye'll see, what ye will see. 
As the3^ sow, sae sail they reap. 

That is Eternit\''s law; 
The Sphinx of justice will follow them, 

They'll feel auld justice's paw. 

COUP DE GRACE. 

The caddie noo, can croun his mouldy nose, 

Wi' far-seeing ee-glasses; 
Owre his brainless pudding pan, 

Can mak' a few psychic passes; 
Then settle down to business. 

In a decent kin' o' wa\'; 
An' bridle weel his wagging tongue, 

Of ithers hae less to say. 

I've gien the goose a red-het scaud, 
I've pAdvcd him weel, that's me; 

He's pinfeathered an' singed, 
An' weel drawn, he will be. 

Wi' my rhymin' scalpel I'll quarter, 
An' mincf^ him to n hash: 



PEN PICTURES. 271 

Then frae the like, I'll turn awa', 
I care na for sic trash. 

A FACT. 

Tliasc wha arc true an' kin' — frien's, 

My pen need never fear; 
But thase wha slur an' strik' the blaw, 

I'll shaw them twa can sneer. 
They'll feel the power behin't the throne, 

The left cheek I'll nae turn; 
I'll gie them a breezy whirl — frien's, 

A lesson they will learn. 
We winna thraw oot the bad thocht, 

Gin we dinna liae guid cause; 
But whan we do, we gie it het, 

According to Nature's laws. 
Sae whan ye read the satire, 

Ye'U ken, it the3' weel deserve, 
Auld justice will stan' by me — frien's. 

We've gat the grit an' nerve. 



CALDWELL PARK. 



GROWLIN' spirit wanders roun', 

The improvements are scanned well; 
Fifty dollars for graveled walks. 

Excuse me if I tell. 
Alake! that sign-board with Caldwell's name, 

$450 the heirs paid? 
Turn on the search-licht, aye! turn! 

And be ye not afraid, 



272 



PEN PICTURES. 



A WHAT-IS-IT. 



SEVEN month's wean I'm sure j'c were, 
Ye keeked j'-onrseP into the w^arl; 
Glad w^as your minnie whan jq came, 
A mischanter, ye were a girl. 

Nae howdie there, I'm sure of that, 
Like a south wind skreighing ye came; 

Blew A'our chanter, piped loud and lang, 
(Your laird rests oot o' the hame.) 

In 3'our last reincarnation, 3'e were a man. 
In the change the fluids were mixed; 

The chemist was drunk, the gas and the wind. 
Had a fyke, that's hoo ye were fixed. 

Nae man, nae woman, a mongrel. I wow! 

A sort of betwixt and between; 
The warl is full of the like of ye, 

Ye'll find them ilk wliare, 1 ween. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



DULLNESS! portion of the truly blest; 
Calm, sheltered haven of eternal rest! 
Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes. 
Of fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams 
If mantling high she fills the golden cup 
With sober, selfish ease they sip it up. 




ALFRED AUSTIN. 



PEN PICTURES. 273 



TO ARMS. 

I. 

,0W let the cry, "To Arms! To Arms!" 
Go ringing round the world; 
And swift a wave-wide Empire swarms 
Round Battle flag unfurled! 
Wherever glitters Britain's might, 

Or Britain's banner flies; 
Leap up mailed myraids with the light 

Of manhood in their ej^es; 
Calling from farmstead, mart, and strand, 

"We come! And we! And v^^e! 
That British steel ma^^ hold the land, 
And British keels the sea." 

II. 

From English hamlet, Irish hill, 

Welsh hearths, and Scottish bj^res, 
They throng to show that thej-- are still 

Sons worthy of their sires; 
That what these did, we still can do. 

That what they were, we are, 
Whose fathers fought at W^aterloo, 

And died at Trafalgar! 
Shoulder to shoulder see them stand, 

Wherever menace be. 
To guard the lordship of the land, 

And Trident of the sea. 



274 TEN PICTURES. 



III. 



Nor in the parent Isle alone 

Spring squadrons from the ground; 
Canadian shore and Austral zone 

With kindred cry resound: 
"From shimmering plain and snow-fed stream. 

Across the deep we come. 
Seeing the British ba^'onets gleam, 

Hearing the British drum. 
Foot in the stirrup, hilt in hand. 

Free men, to keep men free; 
All, all will help to hold the land. 

While England guards the sea!" 

IV. 

Comrades in arms, from every shore 

Where thundereth the maine. 
On to the front they press and pour 

To face the rifles' rain; 
To force the foe from covert crag. 

And chase them till the\' fall; 
Then plant forever England's flag 

Upon the rebel wall! 
What! Wrench the sceptre from her hand 

And bid her bow the knee! 
Not while her Yeomen guard the land. 

And her ironclads the sea. 

— By Alfred Austin. 

RESPONSE. 

The hydra-headed P^-thon, Greed, 

"To arms! to arms!" it 3^ells; 
Its voice is hoarse, its e\^es blood-shot, 

Its bloated body swells. 
"The battle-ax tak' afif the shelf, 

The British flag unfurl; 



PEN PICTURES. 275 

Ave! British steel will hold that land, 

We'll give them a l)reczy whirl!" 
True, from English Hamlet, Irish hill, 

Welsh hearths and Seottish byres. 
They throng to show that they are still. 

Sons worthy of their sires. 

Losh! where are you, Sir Alfred, where? 

At home, protected w^ell; 
A cushioned rocker, a w^arni hearth. 

Aping a London swell. 
Did your guteher fight a Waterloo? 

At Trafalgar did he die? 
Sir, the patriotism that you show. 

Wad mak' the auld man sigh. 
Shoulder to shoulder you do not stand. 

You lie on a bed of down; 
Read the mornin' papers, yea! 

An' loaf aroun' the town. 

Canada's lads, shoved to the front. 

The plebeians are fit for this; 
Royalty must have servants. 

Hell's cross the braw lads kiss! 
Alake! Irish Fusileers are there, 

Hech! Royalty is wdiere? 
"My Irish soldiers," sa3^s the Queen, 

O Gude! this isna fair! 
"Foot in the stirrup, hilt in hand 

Free men, to keep men free; 
All, all, w^ill help to hold the land, 

While England guards the sea." 

England will guard the sea, aye! aj^e! 

A home guard w^ateh (like A'ou;) 
Sir Alfred, Poet Laureate! 

This Pen Picture is true. 
The Queen w^ill mak' o' ye a knight, 



276 PEN PICTURES. 

A gartered knight, a brave; 
But the poet who builds the fires of war, 

Is a villain and a knave. 
A home ]jrotector! a body guard! 

A well dressed flunky — a slave! 
O Poet Laureate! scotehed by Disgraee 

Such loyalty nanc wad crave. 

"Wherever glitters Britain's might, 

Or Britain's banner liies; 
Leap up mailed myraids with the light, 

Of manhood in their eyes." 
Blind eyes have they, wha follow false gods, 

(Britannia's god is Alight;) 
Like hinds that hunt the English boar, 

Submission, to them, is right. 
A tA'ke, is naething but a tyke, 

The yeomen are the same; 
Men, moved on the chess-board of war, 

Royalt3^ views the game. 

"What! wrench the scepter from her hand, 

And bid her bow the knee! 
Not while her yeomen guard the land. 

And her ironclads the sea." 
'Twad turn the leaf in history'. 

One mair pirate laid low; 
Her sword is stained with foreign blood, 

Ye'll reap sir, as ye sow. 
Canada will not respond again, 

She'll call a halt neist time; 
Those glistening diamonds stained with 
blood, 

Such glory's nae worth a dime. 

The push and pluck, the bull-dog grit, 
That Canadian lads have shown; 



PEN PICTUKEvS. 277 

Will rise against the English lords, 

Lay low that English throne. 
Canadians, are men of might, 

Of them, Roberts, made a lever; 
The power that eonquered Cronge's men. 

Will cut the English tether. 
With Sir Wilfred Laurier and Sir Charles 
Tnpi)er, 

The English will dine some day; 
The menu will be "Tarte" sauce, 

John Bull will forget to pray. 



TO HUDSON TUTTLE. 



In the Progressive Thinker, June 23, is a poem sup- 
posed to have been inspired by Robert Burns. 

I do not question the mental status of the medium, 
but in braid Scotch I denounce the spirit that imposed 
on the folk. The thing is not mine, it is not Scotch in 
style or expression. My car-marks, cues and turns 
are unmistakable, and the clear cut style of my satires 
are ayont the fake. In regard to that poem I say: 

+ ^MPOSTURE vile, that poem, yea! 
^ll 'Twas mithered by a lie; 
3I|L ^ic treacherv in a man, 
T Wad mak' an angel sigh. 

Am I a knave? ami a deil? 

What! forsake my bonnie Jean! 
The lass that gied herseP to me. 
An' mithered my braw wean? 

With weans to feed, and debts to pa}'. 
An' crrief to chill her heart; 



278 PEN PICTURES. 

Desert my bonnie Jean, sae leal! 

I frae that hame depart? 
Oh, no! not I! that's nae Rob Burns, 

I scorn the villain's lie! 
I promised Jean I'd cum tae her, 

Whan I fand I maun die. 



"My Robert whispered i' nw ear; 

I looked for her departed; 
For whom I near dissolved in tears, 

An' died e'en broken hearted. 

**Love bound the chains around our hearts, 
Nae power in heaven can siver; 

Nae more can divide us twa. 
For we are oned togither. 

"'My Mary', burst in wild exclaim! 

Frae lips pale with emotion, 
'Thou art to be my bride in bonds, 

Cliansreless as our devotion.'" 



The chatter of a daft coof. 

Amalgamation's Scotch, 
Treachery spawned the thing, 

It's caught in Abortion's snatch, 
Clishmaclaver, w^eak an' thin, 

I keek the thing, 'tis vile! 
I take a second Icuk at it, 

An' with Derision smile. 

A husband and a father I, 

Wad I forsake my own? 
Gin I was half as laigh as that, 

I wadna want it known. 
I am aboon the like, 'tis true. 

Think of me as you will; 




PEN PICTURES. 279 

I lo'cd my Jean, m\^ bonnie Jean, 
I am her liiver still. 
Tune 25, 1900. Rob Burns. 



TO MATTIE THOMPSON. 



WAS in Fort Worth, Texas, 
I met ye in Jean's Hall; 
My visit to ye Lady fair, 
Was just a friendly call. 
I scanned ye weel, I touched your brain, 

Ye'd cast awa' the blind; 
Loyalty's lassie, brave an' leal, 
Oppression ye didna mind. 

Ye were too mild, too tame, too sweet. 

Ye wadna mak' mj^ turns; 
My satires ye wad scorch with fire. 

Ye had nae use for Burns, 
An' I'd nae use for ye, nae! 

My sel' I cudna be; 
To wield my pen, mj^ ain style, 

I maun hae rape that's free. 

Nae clutch oopon the ither end, 

Nae mule to baulk an' keek; 
Ye sent me off to spirit Ian', 

Ye thocht Rab Burns a "Brick." 
A simple kiss, ye wadna tak', 

Mair real the kiss 3'c get; 
1 had nae time to spend with \'e, 

Ye'd leave me "In the wet." 



280 PEN PICTURES. 

I ca'd your way, a chat we had, 

Ye understood me well; 
A beuk I tatdd ye 1 wad write. 

That beuk is hot as . 

I am an artist, as j^e'll fin', 

I play upon the (liar) lyre; 
Hypocracy, with jads an' tykes, 

I'll mak' them all transpire. 

Gin ye like me, call roun' my wa\'. 

To all I am a friend; 
I'll help ye twist the couplet. 

An' the quatrain I will blend. 
The sonnet is a wee bit tough, 

The rondeau — that is better; 
Plain eight and seven, Scott's ain style, 

(We poets like to meet her.) 

Ye're brocht here for the mental wark, 

There's muckle in store for yc; 
The Hindoo guid I'll sen' your wa}^, 

Aly Lady can't spare me. 
In jacket straight she hands me, 

Nae flirtin' on the sh-; 
She'd geek her heid and cauldly sa^^ 

I've ither fish to fr\^ 



MY MURDERED CAT. 



l^t^Y own pet cat, I loved you well, 
Jflj|ll My poor pet cat, how can I tell 
^nl "^^^^ sorrow that I felt, when you 
~' *? - Were spirited away, 'tis true. 



PEN PICTURES. 281 

A vile conspiracy' \vn.s laid. 
All! I had long l)ccn sore afraid, 
Your life would pa}^ the price of hate, 
Her vengeance thus she'd satiate. 

Too long she lived a maiden old, 
So long she turned a harping scold; 
She nags and frets from morn 'till night, 
She never seems to find things right. 
A ducking stool would mend her ways, 
She's like the shrews o' auldcn da^^s; 
Her flattering, fawning Aale deceit. 
Ye gods! for such she can't be beat. 

Her cunning wiles o'er man she cast. 
Into her net he fell at last; 
A w^oman's style — a braw new gown. 
To catch a man she came 'to town. 
And he — poor fool! he might have wed, 
Some girl intelligent, well bred; 
Like Posdnicheff, he lost his head, 
Married a dry -goods sign instead. 

Who wonders that the mither auld, 
Did fail to live with such a scold; 
She frets an' beats her ain wee child. 
His screams do set the neighbors wild. 
Her temper's a volcano hot. 
The husband's cooked in her hot-pot, 
Auld Satan in her brain does dwell, 
He is at home — he is in hell. 

I pra3^ the spirit of my cat. 

Will turn into a spiteful rat; 

And spoil her bread and cat her cheese, 

I'll l)lame it not if it does tease 

And haunt her house b\' night and day; 

Until again the shrew does pra\', 



282 PEN PICTURES. 

The loan of some good neighbor's cat, 
To come and catch the wicked rat. 
Randolph, 1899. 



I AM MY LADY'S FRIEND AND GUIDE. 



'ER in Scotland an' England, 

There's mony an' mony a queen; 
Writin' (thej^ say) frac Rob Burns, 
The\'' are muckle pleased, I ween. 
I smile to see their crambo — clink. 

The}/ lack my cues an' turns; 
They'll hae to study monj^ years, 
Afore they can ape Rob Burns. 

Ye can write muckle, thocht, an' bairn. 

An' tocher, an' eerie an' gree; 
But whan ye hae a' that, man, 

Ye'U fin' ye hae na me. 
Ye may coax your Musie 'till he's blin', 

To ape Scotch Rob Mossgiel; 
But Nature's wat lee's i' the min', 

M^^ ain harp I j^et spiel. 

I fand a lass, way doun in Spain, 

Her Musie was an Irish Rob; 
The fake he played richt w^eel, hech! 

('Twas the Irish pat oop the job.) 
He gied the name o' Robert Burns, 

The skellum she did believe; 
She did na gie the deil a test, 

A clairvo\^ant, ye canna deceive. 



PEN PICTURES. 283 

An' owrc in P'rance an' auldisli dame, 

Thoclit Burns was sure her guide; 
But that was never true, nae! nac! 

The tale I do deride. 
She was sae puir a sensitive, 

I end na mak' her see; 
That she was ane o' twa wives, 

A sonsie quean kept he. 

A medium as slaw as that, 

Is muekle too slaw for me; 
Pereeption I maun hae, frien. 

Keen wit, an' energy. 
A stirrin warker, bizzin' roun', 

Wi' thochts that Hash wi' hre; 
I played the scout lang, weary j-ears, 

Afore this, I did aequire. 

I am ane o' the brownies fliehterin' roun', 

Takin' notes for fun; 
I ca' on Fashion's dochter, 

I stray 'roun' wi' a mither's son. 
Clairvoyants aften sec me, ay! 

Standin' by some grannie's chair; 
They gie an' eldritch skreigh, an' sa^^: 

*'IvOsh! I see Rab Burns is there." 

Hech! mither, Rab Burns is your guide, 

A treasure ye hae gat; 
An' then the auld dame prayed to Gudc, 

That I wad sta}^, an' that. 
Whyles the brownies raired sac loud, 

Auld Nicky Ben cud hear; 
He'd sen' for rat in' Rab Mossgicl, 

My pranks aft mak' him leer. 

There's wild Meg Lee, wha talks o' me, 
I wonner gin she's Scotch! 



284. PEN PICTURES. 

I'll sniff aroiin' an' see, ay! ay! 

Sure — I tlioclit that she was Dutch. 
I cud na weel get in her box, 

We wadna weel agree; 
I like a finer article, 

The mental style suits nie. 

It is sae vera queer that sonse 

Can't understand the law; 
I canna harmonize, 3'c ken, 

Wi' hawks an' craws that caw. 
The mental altitude I seek, 

Wi' spiritual folk I gang; 
I write o' luve, o' frien' an' fae, 

An' I write o' Sin an' Wrang. 

I am nw Lad^v's frien' an' guide, 

She's mair than that to me; 
With the ebb an' flow of Life's tide, 

Whare she is — I will be. 
As magnet to the steel, I'm leal, 

We're harnessed oop thegither; 
Aye! we will sail alang thro' life, 

Facin' all kin's o' weather. 



THE LAST WORDS OP^ AN INSANE FRIEND. 



jVjHPv sands of life arc ebbing fast. 

And I'm refreshed with Death's cold blast: 
J I've waited long, O, Death for thee! 
^ I've longed, aye, longed your face to sec. 
I've watched long years 3'our coming boat, 
Out on Death's sea I've longed to float; 
My work was done long years ago, 



PEN PICTURES. 285 

It sccnis to me, and so 

I woiulcrctl why I tarried here. 

I longed for death and had no fear; 

The demarkation Hnc seemed near, 

And still I did not go — 'tis strange! 

But now — I see the eoming change. 

lovely Death! you've eome at last! 
Upon my brows your dews are falling fast; 
This moisture cools a heated brain, 

I'll soon be free — be free from pain! 
'Twas in the summer of my life, 
Wrong came, he Ijrought disorder, strife; 
It was to be — it was to be, 
Life held but little joy for me! 

Keep back the tears that iall so fast — 

Oh, I'm so glad, Death's come at last! 

You have no cause to mourn for me. 

Rejoice, dear friends, I'll soon be free! 

Ah! there's Death's raven perched upon my door! 

1 see its shadow on the floor! 

And o'er my senses creep Death's chill. 
His icy fingers make my heart thrill 

With gladness — 

Banish sadness — 

Death subdues Madness. 

xVh! Death now shuts 3'ou from my eyes! 
But brings a brighter light from distant skies; 
My earthly friends have passed away. 
But spirit friends have come to stay. 

I see my mother's face once more. 

Just as I saw it years before; 

She is so glad that I am free 

From that dark nis^ht that was to be. 



286 PEN PICTURES. 

My father, sisters, daughters, all. 
This spirit circle is not small! 
So many friends have come for me, 
Oh! how I wish that you conld see, 
The lovely sight that Death does bring! 
I wonder, that to Earth you cling, 
Where souls are crushed with sadness! 
And Life is wrecked with Madness! 

One by one, you'll come to me, 

A little while 'twill only be; 

When bud, blossom and age will meet. 

Oh! the joy, 'twill be so sweet! 

A spirit band held by magnetic ties. 

Freed from the mortal, no tears, no sighs, 

But one long life of endless joy and bliss, 

F'arewell! — farewell! my friends! 
Press on my lips one loving kiss. 
This body, old, I gladly yield. 
Lay it gently in Death's held, 
Plant on my grave sweet scented flowers. 
Wet not with tears but Nature's showers; 
In Nature's arms I'll sweetly rest, 
Bv Mother ciirtli I'll be caressed. 



BURNS TO HIS LADYE. 



SAr'^E protector, child, I'll be, 
As father, I'll watch over thee; 
Tenderh" I'll guard thee, child. 
Chide thee loved one, with voice mild. 
I've snatched thcc from the clutch of Fate, 
With Hypnotism you shall not mate; 



PEN PICTURES. 287 

I will hold yon linn and fast, 
Into its net, 3'ou'll not be east. 

Aye, new vietims it will find, 

It searebes for tbe negative mind; 

Bj^ power of wall, its vietims 3'ield, 

A mighty power, it does wield. 

Along its path, its victims lie. 

Oft 1 bear their mournful sigh. 

O Hypnotism! 3'c act the lie! 

With thy gilded mask so fair. 

Thou dost guard thy tongue with care. 

A3'e, the maiden thinks 'tis love. 

As 3'e coo her like a dove, 

You do will, she does obe3^ 

With might3^ power 3'ou hold full sway; 

But when guides are strong and firm, 

H3'pnotism will quickh' learn, 

That they who pla3^ both loose an' fast. 

Shall b3'- the higher powers be cast 

Out on the world to pave their wa3^. 

We'll let them tramp 'till tlie3^ are gray. 



TO A COOP\ 



^. AIKE a faded tassel 3'e dangle, 
'-"I At the end of a silken rope; 

liL Like a poodle dog v^e follow. 

Ah! with stronger powers 3'e'll cope. 
There's much at stake with Lily Dale, 

Are ye playing loose and fast? 
A seine lies low a neat h the waves, 
Fate the die hcis cast, 



^- 



288 



PEN PICTURES. 



A MEMOraAL. 




To the mcinor\' of Alaj-Geii. Henry W. Lawton. 

^ATE kissed your brow, and made yon great, 

In the nihids of man^^ men; 
War shed the bkood of Innocenee, 

That ye mieht be grit, ye ken, 
While at the zenith of Fame's height. 

Revenge struck the fatal blow; 
'Tis -a war of Might 'gainst a war of Right, 

Riijht maun wrans: overthrow. 



O ye servant of War and Greed! 

A ])oor eause yc followed well! 
Your eohimanders are Christ's holy men, 

In a pooreause, man, jq fell. 
AlcKiide\% Coniinander-i:i-Chief, 

Christ died to save sueh men; 
High-handed murderers, protected by Law, 

Justice will reign — oh! when? 

Feb. 6, 1900. 




MARGARET GAULE. 



PEN PICTURES. 289 



UP-TO-DATE. 



Delaware Avenue Baptist Church, Dr. 0. P. Gifford, 
the pastor, will preach in the morning on: "Abra- 
ham's Seed." 

Feb. 2-4. 1900 

INNA think my epistle tough. 
Ye mauna think it low and rough, 
Gin I gie a wee bit "Hot stuff, 
I'm keepin' pace. 
With all the preachers in the land, 
In the "Up-to-date," I'll tak' a hand, 
I've gat the grit, I've gat the sand, 
I'm in the race. 

I carena to mix in the preacher's fusses, 

I carena to mix in the kirk's musses. 

But whan the Mess John confronts the lasses. 

With Abraham's seed; 
A tale I'll gie aboot my sel, 
Fear na! fear na! I'll do't well. 
Even I'll get with that kirk swell, 

I will indeed. 

TO MAGGIE GAULE. 

Gie us a guid readin' Maggie, 

Tell all 3'e ken, is true; 
An' I'll gie ye a rhyme, Maggie, 

I'll write a sang for a^ou. 
We'll remember ye in our buke Maggie, 



290 PEN PICTURES. 

We'll speak of you kindly clear; 
The bitter, biting, sarcasm, 
Oh! ye needna hae a fear. 

I'll ca' ye ane o' my lassies, Maggie, 

Some day ye'll cum this side; 
I'll pat a licht in the window, Maggie, 

Ye can be my spirit bride. 
I've thretty an' sax noo, Maggie, 

LoshI dinna get jealous dear; 
I've luve eneugh for all, Maggie, 

Luve is spontaneous, dear. 

I'm cupid's sonsie chiel, Alaggie, 

Makin' luve's a trick; 
I follow the laws o' Nature, Maggie, 

(My gutcher's name was Nick.) 
Auld Nickie Ben, the Deil himsel,' 

Says woman was gar't for man; 
Then why na luve them weel an' Strang, 

An' carry oot Nature's plan. 

Ye are welcome in oor hame, Maggie, 

The hoose belangs to me; 
My wee braw Ladj^ will name it, Maggie, 

Name it after me. 
I'll gie ye the saftest chair, Maggie, 

By the ingle ye sail sit; 
An' wi' ye I will chat, Maggie, 

Mak' lo'e to ye a bit. 

Ye mauna forget to cum, Maggie, 

A frien' I am to ye; 
['11 help ye all I can, Maggie, 

Ye'll fin' a frien' in me. 
I luve my dear bought Bess, Maggie, 

She's the darlin' o' them all; 



PEN PICTURES. 291 

Oh, Maggie! it's Glide's truth I'm teUin', 
Mj^ family isna small. 

I didua waste m3' seed, Maggie, 

I drapped it whare it grew; 
The hairst is on this side, Maggie, 

I'm tellin' ye sae true.j 
Ye've heard o' the auld carlin, Maggie, 

Whase hame was an atild shoon; 
Like her, I've mony weans, Maggie, 

Rab was the sleist loon. 

Our systems, an' methods here, Maggie, 

Are ayont the Bellamy plan; 
The juggernaut o' monopolies. 

We leave to Earth an' m.an. 
Relief we give to some Maggie, 

The psychic power graws Strang; 
We concentrate this power, Maggie, 

We wad o'erthrow all wrang. . 

There's a good time cnmin' Maggie, 

In the sweet by-an-b}^; 
The army o' Progression's warken', 

Mang the kirk men on' the sly. 
Ance mair we sing o' the kirk's alarm. 

Truth's liclit is shinin' bricht; 
We'll lead them frae the raid o' Wrang, 

To the braid fields o' Richt. 

Atisust, 1893. 



292 PEN PICTURES. 



CUNNING GREED. 



CALF, whose name was Cunning Greed, 

Slept in the bed with Selfishness; 
The calf did bawl for feed, more feed, 
It ate with greedy hogishness. 

It's mouth was large — a suction pump, 
This calf, it sucked four teats at once; 

A grunt an' groan gave auld cow Crump, 
An' said:- "I'm 'fraid I am a dunce." 

•'My calf has drained my teats quite dry. 
And bawling still for more — yes, more; 

And still 'twill suck an' suck, an' try, 
My teats are empty, cracked an' sore." 

"My heifer calves ne'er act this way. 
My bag they do not bunt and bang; 

From bull calves set me free, I pray. 
He'll get turned out to grass e're lang." 

A FINISH. 

Animals and folks are much alike, 

Experiences muckle the same; 
Weans ride in a carriage day and night. 

While the auld man hobbles roun' lame. 

To the son, the auld man lends his gold, 
The son smokes fine cigars; 



PEN PICTURES. 253 

The auld man meditates with Gloom, 
For him, the son nae cares. 

The auld man's poor, his gold is gone, 

In the son, great faith he had; 
But emptj' are the auld man's pocks, 

He's no more use for Dad. 

Nov. 1899. 



TO SAMUEL F. MYERS. 



,0 Wisdom's wards I listened, 
I felt 3'our micht3^ power; 
The gudes have blessed 3'e weel frien', 
Yours the rich man's dower. 
Yours the walth ayont the King, 

Nae duke, or laird, or sir; 
Ye min' the beck an' ca' o' Fate, 
An' ne'er will ye demur, 

Gae on your waj', jQ are the Christ, 

A savior, 3'e will be; 
'Tis ainly noo an' then a man, 

Can reach the height o' 3'e. 
Ye dinna ken 3'our power, man. 

Ye, in a hovel sta3an'; 
An' roun' the kintra like a tramp. 

Here an' there a stra3'in'. 

Ye, wi' thocht-gems worth mair'n a croun, 

Wha 3'e are, nae one kens; 
Cum back agen to Lih^ Dale, 

We'll shaw 3'e, we are frien's. 
Negleckit 3'e hae been, man. 



294 PEN PICTURES. 

Hid in that wee bit cot; 
In the hiltie skiltie o' camp life, 
Ye, the^' quite forgot. 

But stars will shine, whan the moons are hid, 

Then's the time we see; 
The constellations in glory bricht, 

An' sic man, we fin' ye. 
A mornin' star, a guiding star, 

From darkness into licht; 
Yours the mission of true manhood, 

Dear frien' your torch is bricht. 

We're glad we met ye on the waj-, 

Prood to shak' 3'our han'; 
Your inspiration, ye'W leave behint. 

We'll nae forget ye, man. 
We hope to be the better, frien,' 

For the lesson ye hae gien; 
We'll dra.p the seeds o' kindness. 

Where her flowers will be seen. 



LE CONSEIL DE GUERRE. 



RING oop the curtain, 

Guid frien's, I maun say; 
That the notes in m\' last, 

Were pat in a way; 
That roused the het w^rath, 

O' the Muse 'hint the scene; 
They werena all mine, 

Ye ken' it I ween. 



PEN PICTURES. 295 



Amalgamation loslil 

A mixture o' breeds; 
Is waur for a Scotchman, 

Than Orthodox creeds. 
This is na the first time, 

A whaup drapped i' m^^ nest; 
Gin it happens agen, 

The Miisie will rest. 

To my frien', La Fontain, 

I rise to sa3'; 
There's nae room for twa. 

Remember I pray. 
Ilk ane to his trade, 

Your Literati the same; 
It's a wee bit too late. 

To court Favor and Fame. 

To her pats and kettles, 

The dame better stick; 
Pies, bannocks and scones. 

She's up to that trick. 
To please the auld Carlin, 

An' keep "in the swim;" 
Ye filled my wrath-caup, 

Oop to the brim. 

Tac h 1 with the jad, 

Nae half-breed for me; 
Loot that caudron be clouted, 

By ithers, na thee. 
I hand the joker, 

I play on her Jack, 
"It's oop to me," laddie. 

This a Scotch crack. 

COUP DE GRACE. 
Ye've pla3'ed a bauld game, man, 



296 PEN PICTURES. 

Your stakes were on poker; 
But noo I am in it, 

We'll play cut-throat euchre. 
Your king took her queen, 

Your left took her ace; 
I noo play the joker, 
Defeat ye maun face. 

Your Brither, 
April 1, 1900. Rab Burns. 



FROM MAY TO FLO. 



'VE been tryin', Flo, to write j'ou. 
So very — ver^' long; 
But the Musie wouldn't let me, 
I think it very wrong. 
PVom morn 'till night, it's Scotch an' Scotch, 

I oft laugh when I see; 
The funny things that Bvirns does write. 
It seems so queer to me. 

I tick, an' tack an' tack an' tick, 

'Tis the best that I can do; 
Except now and then, I give a rap. 

You know then, I'm with you. 
A wee bit, sit in the twilight, Flo, 

Aye, close j^our eyes — you'll see; 
In a little while you'll understand. 

The message I bring thee. 

Development, is slow but sure, 

Patience you must learn; 
I'll bring guid friends frae mither, mine, 

I'll bring with me Laverne. 



PEN PICTURES. 291 

I hear you say — well! who is he? 

Oh! it matters not, dear Flo; 
I'll say, he is a friend of mine, 

No one that 3^ou know. 

I had nae gift for poetr}^ 

'That I cud na write; 
The rh^^mes that I would mak', dear Flo, 

Wad gie auld Niek a fright. 
But 'Rob' is in the business, Flo, 

So I tell him what to sa}^; 
He fixes it, to suit himsel', 

He tak's his ain guid way. 

Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes not, 

I'm happy when all is well; 
You know how 'tis yoursel', Flo, 

'Tis waste o' time to tell; 
The trouble an' grief of friends, Flo, 

So much comes in Earth life; 
We see the bitter bickerings. 

The jars, an' ugly strife. 

We weep ofttimes, the same as you. 

There's so much that we see; 
M\' mother's troubles are mine, Flo, 

She is a part of me. 
For many years she's tried to help. 

Those in trouble and need; 
An' now, she gets — blow after blow, 

From the selfish hand of Greed. 

I saw it all, I saw^ it all, 

I called you, but in vain; 
I'll be the avenging angel — 

Some like a king would reign. 
Oh! there's a power behind the throne. 

Stronger than woman or man; 



298 PEN PICTURES. 

I'm watching the work of Christians, 
I list well to the plan. 

There's one that's coming soon, Flo, 

I'll be very glad to see; 
I'll open the gate of Eternity, 

I'm glad that it is to be. 
We welcome the friends from Earth life, 

'Twill be a happA' day, 
When the change called death comes to that one, 

"Oh! give me death I pray!" 

Death wouldn't be such a terrible thing. 

If it wasn't for suffering so; 
Were I to live on Earth again, 

I woiddn't dread to go. 
I often think what a horrible thing, 

Death alwaj's seemed to me; 
Really, Flo, I was fool enough, 

To 'think I'd Hve like "She/' 

Now, good by, Flo, listen for the "tick," 

I'll come in the morn an' night; 
And when you hear the tick-tack, Flo, 

You'll know I'm there all right. 
Set me a chair close by A^our side. 

To a rocker I was inclined; 
You could na call me lazy, Flo, 

But a rocker I could find. 



PEN PICTURES. 299 




TO A MATERIALIZING MEDIUM. 

OLD the fort! be not discouraged, 
If need be suffer on and on; 
There's a lesson in it all, man, 
A wretched lesson they maun con. 
Hell's afloat, the burn is rising, 

Their life preservers thej' will need; 
Their boats are shakj^ they are rotten, 
Mony will sink, they will indeed. 

Hold the fort! O Materialization, 
On Truth's battlements ye will stand; 

A braw, smilin', laughing victor. 
Viewed by men from land to land. 

Your enemies shall cower before you, 
Shiver before truth's fiery light; 

There's an overshadowing power, 

'Twill guard you weel throu' trouble's night. 

Jealousy, Need, Spite and Greed, 

A quartette from Hell's blackest hold; 
Gave the warning cry of war, 

She deils! yea, man, vile and bold. 
They unmasked and drew their bludgeons, 

Auld Dame — the Deil's ain witch; 
I, Robert Burns, o' Scotland— 

My temper's reached a fiery pitch. 

Wrang is wrang, the braid warl owre, 

Punishment will capture Sin; 
Truth and Right will reach the goal. 



300 PEN PICTURES. 

Honesty the prize will win. 
The raid that has nae turn is lang, 

And such a raid, Sin canna find; 
Deils lurk alang the by-ways, 

The warning voice, all better mind. 

Spiritism, our religion, 

Holy, pure and beautiful; 
O mediums! treat us kindly. 

Be honest, true, and merciful. 
We who love 3'ou, we who guard you. 

Would lead you in the ways of right; 
Into the bowers of the beautiful, 

Out of Trouble's mirk3' night. 

Let the inner light burn brightly, 

Speak to man with truth's brave word; 
Mind not Evil's cat-o'-nine-tail, 

Fear not Evil's twa-blade sword. 
Jealousy, Env\% Hate, fear not. 

Your frien's are brave and vera strong; 
Earth's courts, Earth's judges. 

Be true, and they'll do you no wrong. 



TO OLEIDA. 



TWEEN the devil and the sea. 
Four ways at once you bow; 
The shifting sand is neath your feet, 
Your foundation weak, I wow! 

Ye smile at , at , at , 

Behint their backs ye frown; 
And gie us all to understand, 
Such folk suld be pat down. 



PEN PICTURES. 301 

It's loose and fast yc play my friend, 

Ye're afraid of the paukie crew; 
Sae ye keep right on nid-noddin', 

'Tis true, there I find you. 
Were you certain of the future day, 

Your loaded dice ye'd throw; 
Sae atween the devil and the sea. 

Your sails will flap and blow. 



TO J. W. DOUGLASS. 
General Manager, Mail and Empire. 



^.jr THANK you for 3^our paper, there's much in it 
J I to learn; 

^1^ Out a little way frien', the compliment I'll return. 
^ The forest business is now plain, no longer will I 

wonder; 
At the howlin' of our editors, you gave Sam's boys a 

sender. 

If you keep even, 3'ou'll do well, stealin' is a trade 

owre here; 
Your Argus-ej^e keep open wide, you'll lose A^our pelt 

I fear. 
The ways and tricks of ^'ankecs, are not past finding 

out; 
Oom Paul isn't in it, ye'll find this true nae doubt. 

I dinna like 3'our way, nae! cauld bluid has that 

Rhodes man; 
Lady Canada gar't a mistake, whan she towsled with 

that plan. 
Had she just kept her ain nose clean, nae mixed with 

that black scrape, 



302 PEN PICTURES. 

'Twad saved the bluid o' Scotland's lads, an' the 
mither's wearin' crape. 

Let Rhodes do his ain fightin'; to the front send 

Chamberlain; 
Let them face their ain manoeuvring, the}', the gods of 

Greed and Gain. 

Gudel the inconsistenc\'I two men created this hell; 
Let them face the cannon's mouth, will they then say 

"All's well." 

Canada's braw lads, Scotland's brave men, led to 
slaughter like dumb beasts; 

While the Neros of this hellish war, are wined and 
dined at feasts. 

Trekking o'er the blood-stained veldt, Canada's lad- 
dies dear; 

A sad mistake, Lady Canada, 3'e'll fin' it sae I fear. 

1 pit\^ the wives an' weans, of the Dublin Fusileers! 
That brave gallant battalion, shed blood and bitter 

tears. 
Eight hundred and fift}- strong, they faced the shot 

and shell; 
To the call, one hundred answer "here" the ithers in 

battle fell. 

The Highland men are very brave, the}' face the can- 
non's fire; 

Oh! thase blae-bluids of London the thocht mak's them 
transpire. 

The plebeians of Canada, losh! the servants of Queen 
Vic; 

The}' die for their Queen, an' their kintra, English 
generals ken weel the trick. 

Canada has learned her lesson weel, her wisdom-teeth 
she's cut; 



PEN PICTURES. 303 

She'll turn a leaf in liistor}-, of the Queen's fool she's 

nae butt. 
She'll furl her ain flag, yecil ludepcndenee ncars her 

birth morn; 
With tagging at the heels of Royality, with their 

randies she's weary an' worn. 

Canada with Sir Wilfrid Laurier, a man o' mony parts, 
An' a' the ithcr guid fallows, that serve auld wine an' 

"Tartes." 
Ye've gat a corner on freedom, ye needna' spill guid 

blood; 
Nid-noddin' at Royalty's beck and call, this is weel 

understood. 

McDonald, Laurier, Sir Charles Tupper, as frien's, lads, 

3'e maun meet; 
Pat awa' your conspiracies, an' the men wha lie and 

cheat. 
^PPlv your Masonic level, measure by the auld time 

square; 
Shaw the peoples wham ye represent, ye are honest, 

aye, j^e're fair. 

And — your watch-eye keep on "Uncle Sam," he isna 

alwaj's fair; 
That is — since Hanna's McKinley, roosts in the pres- 

dent's chair. 
The eagle tells some queer tales, the Goddess frowning 

saj's; 
She's watching the movements of the stars, the stars 

in Polly Tick's plaj^s. 

We've gat a nasty muss o'er here, the gold-bugs all 

like war; 
Human lives sacrificed, Xero like, under their golden 

car. 



304 PEN PICTURES 

Crushed tinder the wheels of their juggernaut, war 
swells the money mart; 

The Imperialists hold the scepter, to die is the plebe- 
ians part. 

I'm takin' notes for the Judgment Day, a witness I 

will be; 
Women can't vote in the States, but they let us 

tell what we see. 
Italians, Negroes, Polanders vote, all sorts of foreign 

trash; 
But whan we women speak o't, the State Gods gie us 

snash. 

A bayonet my pen shall be, I'll spear them unto death; 
I'll cremate them in the flames of Wrath, denounce 

with my last breath. 
War will cease when women vote, mothers their sons 

will save; 
This civilized Christian savagery, we'll bury in Barbai- 

ism's grave. 
Feb. 28, 1900. 



QUOTATION FROM ROBERT BURNS. 



^ AUD tae the Muse, my daintie Davie! 
^ The warl may pla^' ye monie a shavie, 
But for the Muse, she'll never leave ye, 
Tho' e'er sae puir; 
Na, ev'n tho' limpin wi' the spavie, 
Frae door to door. 




PEN PICTURES. 305 



TO T. \V. LITCHFIELD. 



H! Tommy boy, I've knawii ye lang, 

Lang 3^ears ago ye knaw; 

I used to meet ye here an' there, 

An' hear ye talk an' blaw. 
Your voice went oot for truth an' right, 
Ye werena feared to saj', 
Just what ye thocht to John an' Dick, 
On the right side ye'd gae. 
An' swing your flag, wi' a' your might, 
An' tell o' Spiritism; 
Ye boldly stood oop for the right, 
In spite o' catechism. 

An' Burns did laugh, to see ye fight. 

The battle guid an' Strang; 

Ye downed auld Orthodox an' Faith, 

Ye showed them oop as wrang. 

Ye took a han' wi' a' the gudes, 

Auld Clootie ye nae feared; 

The preachers gied ye widest berth, 

F^or fear they wad get speared. 

Sae, Tommy dear, I aften helped 

To carry on the fray; 

By impression I said to ye 

The things that ye did say. 

Ye little knew O Tommy boy, 

The help that ye did get; 

When in those conversaziones, 

Which seemed much like a spat. 



306 PEN PICTURES. 

Whan Dick wad laugh an' chuckle much, 

To see ye fight your waj^; 

An' John wad get sae earnest, 

An' hae sae much to say, 

Aboot the resurrection, 

He knew it was all true; 

The grave wad gie him oop sum day. 

He'd be as guid as new. 

His flesh an' banes wad a' cum oop, 

Frae oot the grun sae clean; 

He'd be the same John Hill o' auld 

A queer belief I ween. 

Noo John is on the ither side. 

He cums to ye sae aft; 

An' pats ye on the head sometimes, 

Wi' friendly lian' sae saft. 

He kens noo, Tom, that ye were right, 

An' he was in the wrang. 

He says to ye "Noo Tommy boy, 

Tom, fight the battle Strang. 

Tell Frankie dear, to cum neist year, 

Oop whare the lilies grow; 

An' I will tell her on the slate 

The truths that I do know." 

Gae on dear boy, there's wark to do, 

Much wark for ye an' me; 

Before auld Orthodox is dead, 

An' the peoples all set free. 

The chains an' fetters we will brak'. 

We'll gie licht to the mind; 

We'll mak' the deaf hear Nature's truth, 

We'll gie sicht to the blind. 

Sae light your torch, O Tommy boy! 

An' blaw your bugle Strang; 

An' draw your sword on Orthodox, 

Put right in place o' wrang. 



PEN PICTURES. 307 

O Tommy boy! tak' courage noo, 

The powers wuU cum to ye; 

The day will soon be cumin', 

When spirit face ye' 11 see. 

Ye do belang to us, dear Tom, 

A servant ye shall be; 

Ye'll teach the slaves o' Orthodox, 

Ye'll help to set them free. 

Tak' courage noo dear boy an' wark, 

For spirit an' its right; 

Stand oop for truth, the living truth, 

We'll help ye in the fight. 

Adieu, auld frien', we thank ye much. 

For kindness ^^e have shown; 

We wadna cum this way, dear frien', 

If we had na' hae knawn 

That ye wad gie us welcome warm, 

An' niak' your hame our ain; 

The higher powers thank ye, frien'. 

We hope to cum agen. 



A CONVERvSAZIONE. 



AST Fenton, — the victim, is under cover, 
He's jumped the Iowa line; 
Is he a felon — Crime's black bird, — 
Losh! is he of that kin'? 
Can he look Honor in the face, 
And say, I'm an honest man; 
Well — Catherwood, I hardly think it, 
I do not iKlieve h? cevn. 



308 PEN PICTURES. 

His hang-dog, sheep-shank, sneakin' look, 

Tells a sorry tale; 
Oh, god! could the walls of that home talk, 

You'd hear a ghost-like wail! 
I do not sa3', that murder stalks, 

A ghost in that old house; 
I do not say that the man you shield, 

Is a villain, and a louse. 

I simply say he's under cover, 

And the wife's gold's in the press; 
And from Shaw's bank to you — man, 

The business's a villain's mess. 
Well hedged around it seems to be. 

He married her for her money; 
But the record he has made, man, 

Is anything but funn^^ 

Of all the liars East or West, 

Your client takes the cake; 
When the brain was mixed with Rum an' Gin, 

His tongue slipped a mistake. 
He told the story of his crime, 

I saw the game he played; 
Remorse will face the villain. 

By Remorse he will be flayed. 

The gold is in the lawyer's press, 

Five lawj^ers sit on the pile; 
A judge, ex-judge, district attornej-, 

'Twad mak' auld Nickie smile. 
The dead wife's watching well the play, 

She is not dead, you see; 
Transition, means from the bodj". 

The spirit now is free. 

Her gold is in the lawyer's press. 
Five lawyers sit on the pile; 



PEN PICTURES. 309 

A judge, ex-judge, a banker, district attorney, 

Mepliistopheles wad smile 
To see just hoo they wark it, 

But, there's a python in their nest; 
Oh God! and the angels see it all! 

And the dead wife cannot rest. 

That old house — haunted! haunted is! 

Ye cud na skip it seems; 
Did the puir deid wife cum to ye? 

Did ye see her in your dreams? 
Nae wonner ye sold the hoosie. 

Materialist tho' ye be; 
Frae that haunted hoose, man. 

Grit Gude! man, ye did flee. 

Did ye hear the rappin' — rappin'? 

Did ye hear strange noises weird? 
Did ye see the wife ye wranged — man? 

Did she cum frae the graff in her shroud? 
Did ye ca' on His Satanic Majesty, 

To guard ye frae the wraith? 
Did ye feel the touch of the deid wife's han'. 

Did 3'e smell her poisoned breath? 

Oh! there's a ghost behint the scene, man' 

That ghost will never down; 
Look ye to right, look ye to left, 

That ghost will on ye frown. 
A vile tragedy! theft by men, (so called) 

It never can be hid; 
Nemesis, obeys the angry gods. 

Vengeance will do as he's bid. 

Astraea. O Goddess of Justice! 

Deal your vials of wrath,, to that crew; 
Husband — nurse, sister-in-law, — 

Black is the tale — 'tis true. 



310 PEN PICTURES. 

Nemesis goddess of Punishment, 

Ye'll sit on the judges bench; 
With your cat-o'-nine-tail, Nemesis, 

Flay to the bone that (nurse) wench. 

Truth has unmasked the helhsh wrong. 

Truth the tale will tell; 
Guilt makes a man a coward, 

'Twill drag him down to hell! 
Justice, — ring the curtain up, 

O justice! I'm proud of thee; 
Thro' all the unmasking of villains. 

You've been a friend to me. 

Feb. 14, 1898, Austin, Minn. 

A MEMORIAL. 

To Harriett N. Fenton. 

Here by your grave I sit and muse, 

I'm thinking of the past; 
You're under Sorrow^'s mirky cloud. 

For you Sorrow's die was cast. 
I'm thinking of your girlhood days, 

Of the long — long ago; 
The curtain on dame Future's stage, 

Was not raised for you. 

You labored early, labored late. 

Saved in a m.iserly way; 
Hoarding up your shining gold. 

That you might have plenty to pay. 
For the comforts, and needs, a little pleasure, 

When you were old and gray; 
O Life! you are a tragedy. 

With devils and hells in the play! 

Ah! into Matrimony's net, 

A victim trapped you fell; 
A gold-fish, well caught, I trow. 



PEN PICTURES. 311 

I weep when the tale I tell. 
The fisherman came from the west, 

Enticing were his lies; 
The contract closed by the preacher, 

By experience we all grow wise. 

Your thousands dropped in the wily snatch, 

In hell ye lived many a year; 
Ye wept lang nights with Folly, 
Dropped many a scalding tear, 
Tragedy, Villain_Y, Deception, 

Sat by your dying bed; 
Now here you lie among your own. 

Numbered among the dead. 

Not even a stone to mark your grave, 

Your name nowhere is seen; 
While your thousands in the far, far west, 

Are divided with men, I ween. 
Great God! that was blood monev! blood 
money! 

It will follow them to their graves; 
Blood money! Oh, the damnable stain! 

They are Sin's wily slaves. 
Randolph, Feb. 14, 1890. 



TO NANNIE LITCHFIELD. 

ANNIE, darlin' Nannie, 
With the bricht blue ee; 
Fairy spirit, Nannie, 
Fate blessed ye 
With goodness and purity. 

Thy saul mild as the doo; 
Gentle, meek, an' braw, Nannie, 
Yours, a spiritual lo'c. 



312 PEN PICTURES. 

Angel thou art, Nannie, 

Ye were a welcome child; 
Bom o' a luvin' mither. 

With disposition mild. 
'Tis the like o' ^^e, Nannie, 

That fills the warl wi' jo^^; 
1 lo'e to leuk npon your face. 

With its witching smile sae C03', 

The Muse will sing for thee, Nannie 

A spirit child thou art; 
Ye do belang to us, Nannie, 

Weel, ye'll play your part. 
Fortune kissed ye, sonsie Nan, 

In harmony 3'e were born; 
A willin' warker ye will be, 

A flower withoot a thorn. 

We will be leal to ye, Nannie, 

Blessings we will bring; 
Harmony sublime, Nannie, 

With angels ye will sing. 
Glad sangs, sweet sangs, our Nannie 

Oh! we rejoice today; 
To fin' ye in our circle. 

With us ye'll alwa' stay. 

We haud the mystic ke\', Nannie, 

The magnetic key o' Fate; 
We've held it mony a daj^ Nannie, 

We kenna just the date 
We saw 3^ou first, fair Nannie, 

But 3'e were vera sma'; 
Aye, vera weel we kent Nannie, 

Ye'd min' the spirit ca'. 



PEN PICTURES. 313 



THE LOVER'S RIDDLE. 



RIDDLE I will gie ye Luve, 
A riddle I'll gie ye; 
An' gin ye guess the riddle Liive, 
M3^ bride then ye shall be. 
Noo, listen while I tell ye Liive, 

Aboot the riddle queer; 
Think twa-three times afore ye speak, 
It is a puzzle dear. 

A man had twice sax sons, 

Ilk son had lassies thretty; 
An' like the queans o' modern da}^ 

These lassies were quite flirty. 
Ilk lassie had Dame Oddity's face, 

Ae half was white, the ither black, 
The white did gleam with sunnj' smile, 

For frown the black had quite a nacl{ 

Ilk ithcrs face they never saw. 

That is the strangest part; 
I've heard the man in the moon say, 

Tkat nane o' them had a heart. 
Ane thing mair is a greater puzzle, 

Quick they all did dee, 
Noo quickl}' guess mj^ riddle, Luvc, 

An' mae heart tae 3'e I'll gie. 

"I'll guess \'our riddle sae vera quick, 
'Twill puzzle the pate o' aukl Nick; 



314 PEN PICTURES. 

To tell hoo the answer popped into my brain, 
Ye' 11 nae cum tae me, wi' a riddle again." 

**The father — well, his name is Year, 
An' what dae ye think o' that mae dear? 
An' twal months, are the sons twice six. 
Filled tae the brim wi' tinlticky tricks." 

"The lassies thrett3^ are days, 3^e see. 
The riddle is easy it seems tae me; 
Ae half o' the face, is black as jet, 
An' quick I'll guess ye that, ye bet." 

"The ither half is white ye sa3', 
Ane is nicht, the ither day. 
In twenty-four hours they expire, 
Dear Sir, I've granted your desire." 

"But, your bride sir, that I'll nae be. 
That is a thing that relates to me; 
Ye hae nae siller or gold I ween. 
That is vera plain tae be seen." 

"An' the truth is, I canna afford, 
Tae gie ye the half o' my bed an' board. 
The half o' my board, an' the half o' my bed, 
Losh! a man to be claith'd an' housed an' fed." 

"What cou'd ye gie, me for all this?" 
"I'd gie ye mae Luve a husband's kiss; 
An' that tae a maid like ye wad be bliss, 
An' I think its a blessin' jq lang hae missed." 

An' then — ye'd be ca'd, Mrs. Gondee, 
An' that wad be an honor tae ye; 
A protector my Luve I'll be unto thee. 
Gin ye will marry, will marry me." 



PEN PICTURES. 315 

I'll spend your siller, wi' the gritest o' ease, 
Ye can pay my debts, whanever ye please; 
Like American ladies, ye letik for a name, 
I'll tak' your siller, an' buy credit an' fame. 

"Gae ye quick — frae oot o' niae hame, 
I hae little use for ye or your name; 
Dinna mistak' me, do you think me a fool? 
Meikle I've learned, in Experience's school. 

I'll keep mae name — aye! keep mae ain name! 
I understan' weel your pauky game, 
I've thocht it owre weel, I'll tak' mae rather. 
An' wi' your lairdship I winna bother. 

Ye just gang awa', ye have it noo flat, 
I wot it is cheaper tae kiss the auld cat; 
An' mae hoosie an' bed, I will keep tae mae sel, 
I winna mak' o' mae hame, a hell. 



TO S. S. WASHBURN, AUSTIN, MINN. FEB. 1898. 



And banker Shaw will say: 

EA, he will say, with salt tears streaming down 

his face; 
Lived all these years — for what? to meet 

disgrace! 

Behind the scenes, the laughing stock of men I'll be. 
My greed, my love of gold, has brought this fate to 

me. 
Alas! alas! all this I would not mind — 
(Great God! there are some things, I hope they will 

not find.) 



316 PEN PICTURES. 

My tracks well covered, ha! I did defy Detection's 
scout, 

'Tis very strange — but very true, m_v tricks are out. 

Here in my banker's den, unveiled, sure, I am vexed! 

My peace of mind is gone, no rest, great god! v^diat 
next? 

Ghost. 

Alas! a bold black spider in its own nest caught. 

The picture he now views, his own hands wrought; 

As he sowed, so shall he reap, he well knew wrong 
from right. 

Self destruction, aye, oh! it is a pitiful sight! 

Man, cannot well afford to damn himself. 

By wronging justice in the race for pelf. 

Honor, watches \vell each move upon the checker- 
board of life; 

Temptation oft does lead us into ways of sin and 
strife. 

Austin, Minn., Feb 1900. 



BANKER SHAW. 



»<i±^N God wc trust" says the silver dollar, 
^1 In gold I trust, saj-s Shaw; 

vQHI[ "Trust ye can put in me, good iricnds, 
^ Fear not my banker 's claw. 

M^^ requisition is a simple fee, 
This — I do not deny; 

But — no man need want for money. 
So, friends, just apph'." 

The smirking old banker, smiles and bows, 
One covdd imagine, four waA-s at once; 

Bows and bows, and smiles and bows, 
Transforming himself to a dunce. 



PEN PICTURES. 317 

I imagine, he'd get so used to bowing, 
That he'd bow to the dogs on the street; 

Bow to the horses — the telegraph poles, 
And all things, that he might meet. 

He shakes with John — he shakes with Tom, 

A shaking old banker is he; 
It's shake, and it's shake with all classes an' kinds, 

A policr banker — you see. 
The jolh' old farmer, is welcomed there. 

Of the farmer he's much in need; 
Fresh from the stable — highh' perfumed, 

All this matters not to Greed. 

Twelve per-cent John — twenty per-cent Tom, 

Your note is good as the gold; 
It's borrow and lend, lend and Ijorrow, 

Till the dear auld farm is sold. 
Sold on a mortgage — a mortgage sale, 

The farm is the banker's share; 
Inside of the law keeps the sly old banker, 

Of that he takes great care. 

The jolly old banker belongs to the church, 

The "First National Church," ye ken; 
His pra3'ers — aniens, his "Glory to GodI" 

Are well understood b}^ men. 
Hetehl — he's clutched auld grann\^ Dowd's feather 
bed, 

A banker's sale, 3^ea, surel 
Will the Redeemer, show the way for redemption, 

Xae — nae, she must meekl_v endure. 

In the clutch of a banker — wail not! wail noti 

The widow her home has lost; 
Not a da_vl not a day — not a single da^v, 

Sacrificed, — at half the cost I 
And the smiling old banker goes to his church. 



318 PEN PICTURES. 

Pays the preacher — pew rent and all; 
And the preacher reads of the "Original Sin," 
'Twas Eve that caused man to fall. 

So the world wags on, — wags on — and on, 

The godly old banker wags too; 
And he counts his notes — his gold and his bonds, 

Just as all Shylocks, do. 
But when auld Gabriel blows his horn, 

And says — "Drop your bags of gold;" 
That is the time — that is the time, 

Banker Shaw, will then be sold. 

In nakedness then before God he will stand, 

With the "Doomsday book," open wide; 
And it's here is a charge, and there is a charge. 

In this he'll not take much pride. 
"Gold was your God, not I — not I! 

Mammon and Might were your shield; 
And your coffers were filled with gold — from where? 

Did you reap in the poor man's field?" 

Oh! God forbid, that such as ye. 

Sit near the great white throne! 
Goodness — Purit^^ — Humility — Charity, 

Wad turn on ye a frown! 
If Heaven is made of such as 3'e, 

I'll check through to another sphere; 
I fear I'd lose the feathers in my wings, 

Of 3^our banker's clutch I'll keep clear. 

Ye will remember, aye! banker Shaw, 

At niy^merc\', I tald ye, ye were; 
I've gien j^e a nip frae my red het tangs. 

Gin ye like, ye can demur. 
Whan ye cross the path o' anither like me, 

Btan' oop — an' act like a man; 



PEN PICTURES. 319 

An' not be whuppin' roun' here an' there, 
To help oot a villain's plan. 

Ye were in it Shaw, frae your lieid tae your heel, 

Ye w^ere backing a villain, banker Shaw; 
Auld Nick's inquisitor has racked ye weel, 

Noo I'll call the game, a draw. 
I held the queen, I held the king, 

The ace — both jacks, ha! ha! 
An' the "joker", I captured — banker Shaw, 

Whan the "box" was fand in your claw. 

And now, b}^ a woman, you're flayed richt well, 

I hope the lesson 3^ou'll learn; 
Defeat not the wishes of the silent dead. 

For fear of a breezy turn. 
You have met a sample of the "New w^oman," 

We can figure as sharp as you; 
Checkmated — checkmated — banker Shaw, 

Here's a pen picture, Shaw for you. 
P>b. 11 1898. Austin, Minnesota. 



TO EX-GOVERNOR CAMPBELL. 



"I want the Hawaiian Islands, the Phihppines, Por- 
to Rico and Cuba in good time." 

HAT'S what I call expansion. 
Your greed is very great; 
Ye want one half the haill warl. 
The ither half gie A'our mate. 
Joha Bull is. partner in the deal. 

Your richts nane maun dispute; 
E'en tho' your plundering, thieving wars, 
Mak' man a murdering brute. 



320 PEN PICTURES. 

Wha dares to meddle with the Bull, 

Will hear the cannon's rair; • 
Wha dares to meddle with "Sam's Bear," 

Will never meddle mair. 
"We want the warl" — (the Bull and Bear,) 

Might is your scepter — true; 
The gold octopus, with monster claw, 

The U. S., England and you. 
Mar. 10, 1900. 



TO ARTHUR. 



HIS is na game of Baccaret, 

Ye'll find man I am right; 
The leader is a human fox. 

Of him we'll nae lose sight. 
"The hour is- big with Fate;" yeal j'ea! 

And soon will spawn a birth; 
'Twill be the effect of a great cause 

That is fretting Mother Earth. 

Your guns are spiked, aye, that they are, 

But in a pleasant way; 
Ye'll wear your regimentals well, 

And naething will ye saj'. 
I smile to see the paukie game, 

A long head, your boss has got; 
But he'll buck against a c^^clone, 

And lose his horns I wot. 
June 10, 1900. 




A. B. RICHMOND. 



PEN PICTURES. 321 



TO A. B. RICHMOND. 



S the mast to the ship, the horse to the plough 
As the oar to the frail little bark; 
So, friend, I see you have paved your way, 
Ye aim at a high mark. 
Slow but steady, firm and bold. 
Careful to know you are right; 
Watching the ebb of the treacherous tide, 
Ki.-phi^ Truth's Light-house in sight 

Brave and willing to do, and dare. 
Fearing no man as a foe. 
Rushing into Injustice's sea, 
Wrong, you would overthrow. 
A mighty power, I find you friend, 
A worker for truth and right; 
We from the other side view this. 
It gives us, friend, delight. 

As the North star to the Mariner, 
As the moon to the wandering tramp; 
So, you to the hungry searcher. 
Give light— as an electric lamp. 
Aye! faithful, firm, an steady, 
W^e welcome you friend, in the fold; 
Daring to speak the truth ever, 
Waving truth's banners, bold. 

As the magnet to the steel, friend, 

Attracti(3us you have strong; 

Qhl that more had your subtle power, 



322 PEN PICTURES. 

We'd wake the world ere long. 

Truth's trumpet you will blow, friend, 

You'll sound a wild alarm; 

I'or there's serious trouble brewing friend, 

The thunder speaks the storm. 

The shifting sands will eome and go. 
But the roek will resist the wave; 
Many from the surging deep — 
Out of the wreck you'll save. 
Many are struggling the shore to reach, 
Oh! the great — great pity is, friend, 
That, like you, there isn't more, 
A helping hand will lend. 

The winter of your life, friend. 
Will be filled with noble deeds; 
With a generous hand I see a'Ou, 
Scattering on the way Truth's seeds. 
The soil is fertile, a}', 'twill grow. 
But the harvest j^ou will not see 
In earth-life, nae — nae, good friend, 
You'll be over here with me. 

But ere Transition's change comes. 
There's much in store for thee; 
A different life you'll meet, friend. 
Great changes for you I see. 
Evolution will turn her wheels, 
You'll meet a great surprise; 
You're in the hand of Fate friend. 
Strange, but, still, 'tis wise. 

Fate will throw back her doors, kind friend, 

And there behind the screen; 

A living mystery will be solved, 

A happy surprise I ween. 

Jf I were to tell you now, friend 5 



PUN PICTURES. 323 

1 fear you would not believe; 
Man! as honest as you, I am 
A friend, I would not deceive. 

A spirit came with your letter friend, 
A message the lass sends thee; 
Tired and worn with suffering, 
From pain the lass is free. 
It's little that she can say friend, 
She'll be stronger bv and b\^. 
The spirit is weak from waiting, 
For the old sick bodv to die. 

We'll help her friend to come to thee, 

In form ye'll see her again; 

This is true, so very true, 

Strange as it seems to men. 

Ye've better gifts, friend, than ye ken, 

Your gifts will materialize; 

You'll meet with new conditions, 

This truth you'll realize. 

I'm the same wild ranting Rob, 

Oh! my Lady gies me the check; 

She says I mauna do this an' that, 

I made o' mysel' a wreck, 

Trowth! she hands the reins sae vera ticht. 

My cues I sure maun mind; 

The lassie has a Strang will. 

To this fact nane are blind. 



GLOSSARY. 



A' all 

Aback, awa3' from 

Abeigh, at a sh\' distance 

Aboon, above 

Abread, abroad, in sight 

Abreed, in breadth 

Abusin', abusing 

Acquent, acquainted 

A'-da3', all da\' 

Adle, putrid water 

Advisement, advice 

Ae, one, only 

Aff, off 

Aff-hand, at once 

Aff loot, extemporaneously 

Afore, before 

Aften, often 

A-gley, off the right line 

Aiblins, perhaps 

Aik, an oak, Aiken oaken 

Ain,' own 

Air, early 

Airl-penny, earnest money 

Airles, earnest money 

Airn, iron. Aims, irons 

Airt, direction, the point 

from which the wind 

blows; to direct 
Airted, directed 
Aith, an oath. Aiths. oaths 
Aits, oats 
Aiver, an old horse 
Aizle, a hot cinder 
Ajee, to one side 
Alake! alas! 
Alang, along 
Aniaist, almost 



Amang, among 

An', and, An's, and is 

Ance, once 

Ane, one Ancs, ones 

Anent, against 

Anithcr, another 

Artfu', artful 

Ase, ashes 

Asklent, obliquely, aslant 

Asteer, astir 

A'thegither, altogether 

Athort, athwart 

At ween, between 

Aught, eight, Aughteen 

eighteen, 
Aughtlins, any thing, in the 

least 
Auld, old, Auld's, as old as 
Aulder, older 
Auldfarran, sagacious 
Aumous, alms 
Ava, at all 
Awa, away 
Awe, to owe 
A wee, a little time 
Awfu', awful 
Awkart, awkard 
Awnie, bearded 
A3', alwa3^s 
A^'ont, bex'-ond 

Ba', a ball 

Babie-clouts, babv-clothes 
Backets, buckets 
Bade, endured, desired 
Baggie (dim. of hag,) the 
stomach 



GLOSSARY. 



II 



Bainie, bony, muscular 

Bairns, children 

Bairntime, a family of chil- 
dren 

Baith, both 

Bakes, biscuits 

Ballats, ballads 

Ban', band 

Banes, bones 

Bang, a stroke An unco 
bang, a heavy stroke or 
effort 

Bannct, a bonnit 

Bannock, a cake of oatmeal 
bread 

Bardie, dim. of bard 

Bareht, barefooted 

Barkit, barked. Barin, bark- 
ing 

Barm, \'east, Barmie, of, or 
like barm 

Batch, a party 

Batts, the Botts 

Bauckie-bird, the bat 

Baudrons, a cat 

Banks, cross- beams 

Bauk-en', end of a bank or 
cross beam 

Bauld, bold Bauldlv, bold- 
ly 

Bauni}', balmy 

Bawk, an open space in a 
cornfield, generally a ridge 
left unfilled 

Baws'nt, having a white 
stripe down the face 

Bawtie, a familiar name for 
a dog 

Be't, be it 

Bear, barely 

Beas, vermin 

Beastie, dim. of bcnst 

Beets, adds fuel to fire 

Befa', befall 

Behint, behind 

Belang, belong to Blang'd 



belonged to 

Beld, bald 

Bellum, a noise, an attack 

Bellyfu', bellyful 

Belyve, b^- and by 

Ben, into the spence or par- 
lor Benmost bore, the 
innermost recess, or hole 

Bethankit, the grace after 
meat 

Beuk, a book. Devil's pic- 
tur'd beuks, cards 

Bicker, a wooden dish,afew 
steps unwittingly 

Bid, to wish, or ask 

Bide, to stand, to endure 

Biel, a habitation. Bield, 
shelter 

Bien, plentiful, comfortably. 

Big, to build Bigg, to build. 

Bigs, builds Biggin, build- 
ing 

Bill, a bull 

Billie, a good fellow Billies, 
young fellows 

Bings, heaps of anA' thing, 
such as turnips, potatoes 

Birdies, dim. of bird 

Birk, the birch. Birks, birch- 
es, Birken, birchen Birk- 
en shaw, a small birch 
wood 

Birkie, a spirited fellow 

Birring, whirring 

Birses, bristles 

Bit, crisis 

Bizzard gled, a kite 

Bizz, a bustle. Bizzes, buzzes 

Bizz3^, bus3'. Bizzie, bus}' 

Bizzies, buzzes 

Black bonnet, the elder 

Blae, blue, sharp, keen 

Blastie, a term of contempt 

Blastit, blasted, Avithered 

Blate, shamefaced 

Blather, bladder 



Ill 



GLOSSARY. 



Bland, to slap; a quantity 
of any thino^ 

Bland in', pelting 

Blaw, to IdIow, to brag 

Blaws, blows 

Blawn, blown Blawn't, had 
blown it 

Bleatin', bleating 

Bleerit, bleared, Bleer't, 
bleared 

Bleeze, a blaze. Bleezing, 
blazing 

Blellum, an idle talking 
fellow 

Blether, the bladder, non- 
sense. Blethers nonsens 

Bleth'rin, talking idU' 

Blin', blind. Blins, "blinds 

Blin't, blinded 

Blink, a blink o' rest, a 
short period of repose, a 
short time, a moment, a 
look. 

Blinks, looks smilingly 

Blinkers, a term of contempt, 
pretty girls 

Blinkin, smirking 

Blirt and blear^', hts of cry- 
ing 

Blitter, the mire snipe 

Blue-gown, one of those 
beggars who get annual- 
ly on the king's birthday, 
a blue cloak or gown with 
a badge 

Blude, blood. Bluid, blood 

Bludie, bloody Bluidy, 

bloody. 

Blume, bloom 

Bluntie, a sniveller, a stup- 
id person 

Blypes, large pieces 

Bocked, vomited 

Boddle, a small coin 

Boggie, dim. of hog 

Bogles, ghosts 



Bonie, beautiful 

Bonnocks, thick cakes of 

oatmeal bread 
Boord, board 
Boortrees, elder shrubs 
Boost, must needs 
Bore, a hole or rent 
Bouk, a corpse 
Bouses, drinks 
Bo w-hough'd, crook thighed 
Bow-kail, cabbage 
Bow't, crooked 
Brae, the slope of a hill 
Braid, broad Braid Scots, 

broad Scotch 
Braid-claith, broad cloth 
Braik, a kind of harrow 
Braing't, reeled forward 
Brak, did break Brak's, 

broke his 
Brankie, well attired 
Branks, a kind of wooden 

curb for horses 
Brany, brand3' 
Brash, sickness 
Brats, rags 
Brattle, a short race 
Braw, handsome 
Brawly, perfectly 
Braxies, morbid sleep 
Breastie, dim. of breast 
Breastit, did spring up or 

forward 
Brechan, a horse collar 
Breckan, fern 
Bree, juce, liquid 
Breeks, breeches 
Brent, straight, smooth, 

un wrinkled 
Brewin, brewing 
Brie, juice 
Brief, a writing 
Brig, bridge 
Brither, brother Brithers, 

brothers 
Brock, a badger 



GLOSSARY. lY 

Brogue, a trick But an' ben, kitchen and 

Broo, water, broth parlor 

Brooses, races at country By, past, apart 
weddings who shall first By attour, in the neighbor- 
reach the bridegroom's hood outside 
house on returning from Byke, a multitude, a bee- 
church hive 
Browst, as much malt liq- 
uor as is brewed at a time Ca', to drive, a call. Ca'd, 
BrowstcT-wives, ale-house named driven Ca's, calls 
wives Ca't, called, Ca' throu' 
Brugh, burgh. Brughs, bor- to push forward 
oughs Cadger, a carrier 
Brulzie, a broil Cadie, a fellow 
Brunstane, brimstone Caff, chaff 
Brunt, burned Cairds tinkers 
Brust, burst Calf-ward, a small enclos- 
Buckie, dim. of buck urc for calves 
Buckskin, an inhabitant of Callans, boys 

Virginia Caller, fresh 

Buff, to beat Callet, a trull 

Btightin-time, the time of Cam, came 
collecting the slieeps into Cankert, cankerd Cankrie, 
the pens to be milked cankered 

Buirdly, strong, imposing- Canna, cannot 

looking, well knit Cannie, carefully, softly 

Buke, book Cannilie, dexterously 

Bum, to hum Cantie, in high spirits 

Bum-clock, a beetle Cantin' canting 

Bumming, making a noise Cantrip, a charm, a spell 

like a bee Cape-stane, cope-stone 

Bummle, a blunderer Cap'rin, capering 

Bunker, a chest Careerin, cheerfulK^ 

Burdies, damsels Carl, a carle Carlie, dim. 

Bure, bore, did bear of carle 

Burns, streams. Burnic dim. Carlin, an old woman 

of burn Cartes cards 

Burnewin (i. e. burn theCartie, dim. of cart 
wind.) a blacksmith Caudrons, cauldrons 

Bur-thistle, the spear-thistle Cauf, a calf 
Busking, dressing, decorat- Cauk and keel, chalk and 
ing. Buskit, dressed Busks red clay 
adorns Cauld, cold Caulder, colder 

Buss, a bush Caups, wooden drinking 

Bussle, bustle vessels 

But, without Causev, causeway 



V GLOSvSARY. 

Cavey, a hen-coop Cleed, to clothe, deeding, 

Chamer, chamber clothing 

Change-house, a tavern Cleek, to seize Cleekit, link- 
Chap, a fellow ed themselves 
Chapman, a peddler Clegs, gad-flies 
Chaup, a blow Clink, to rhyme; monej^ 
Cheek for chow, cheek b\^ Clinkin, sitting down siid- 

jowl dently 

Cheep, chirp Clinkiimbell, the church bell 

Cheerfu', cheerful ringing 

Chiels, young fellows Clips, shears 

Chimla, chininc}', Chimlie, Clishmaclaver, idle conver- 

chimney sation 

Chittering, trembling with Clockin-time, hatching-time 

cold Cloot, the hoof 

Chows, chews Clootie, Satan 

Chuckle, dim. of chuck Clours, bumps or swellings 

Christendie, Christendom after a blow 

Chuffie, a fat face Clouts, clothes Clout, to 

Clachan, a hamlet patch, a patch 

Claise,clothes.Claith, cloth Clud, a cloud Cluds, mul- 
Claith'd, clothed Claithing, titudes 

clothing Clue, a portion of cloth or 

Clamb, clomb 3'arn 

Clankie, a sharp stroke Clunk, the sound emitted 
Clap, a clapper by liquor when shaken in 

Clark, clerkh^ pertaining to a cask or bottle, when 

erudition Clarkit, wrote the cask or bottle is half 
Clarty, dirty emptj^ 

Clash, idle talk, to talk Coatie, dim. of coat 
Clatter, to talk idly. Kintra Coaxin, coaxing 

clatter, the talk of the Coble, a fishing boat 

country Cock, to erect Cocks, good 

Claught, caught Claughtin, fellow Cockie, dim. of 

catching at anything cock, a good fellow 

greedly Cod, a pillow 

Claut, to snatch at, to laj^ Co'er, to cover 

hold of, a quantity scrap- Coft, bought 

ed together b^^ niggard li- Cog, a wooden dish Cog- 

ness gie, dim. of cog- 

Clauted, scraped Coila, from Kyle, a district 

Claver, clover of A^'rshire, so called, 

Clavers, idle stories saith tradition, from Coil 

Claw, scratch or Coila, a Pictish mon- 

Clean, handsome arch 

Cleckin, a brood Collie, a country dog 



GLOSvSARY 



VI 



Collicshangic, an uproar, a Cramljo-clink, rhymes 
^ quarrel Crambo-jingle, rhymes 

Commans, commandments Crankous, irritated 
Comin', eomin^" Cranreuch, hoar frost 

Compleenin, complaining Crap, to crop Craps, crops 
Converse, conversation Craw, to crow 
Cood, the cud Creel, my senses wad be in 

Coofs, fools, ninnies a creel^ to be crazed, to 

Cookit, that appeared and be fascinated 

disappeared by hts Creepie-ehair, the chair or 

Coost, did cast stool of repentance 

Cootie, a wooden kitchen Creeshie, grease- 
dish. Fowls whose legs Crocks, old sheep 
are clad with feathers are Croods, coos Crooded, coo- 
said to be cootie ed 
Corbies, crows Cronie, a comrade 
Corn't, fed with oats Croon, a hollow and con- 
Corss, the market place tinned moan 
Couldna, could not Crouchie, crook-backed 
Counted, considered Crouse, gleefully, with spirit 
Countra, country Crowdie. porridgeCrowdie- 
Couthie, kindly, loving time, breakfast-time 
Cowe, to terrify Cowe theCrowlin, crawling 

cadie, terrify the fellow; Crummock, a staff with a 
^to lop, a fright crooked head 

Cowp the cran, to tumble Crump, crisp 

<^^'^^ Crunt, a blow on the head 

Cowpit, tumbled Cowpet, with a cudgel 

tumbled Cuddle, to fondle 

Cow'rin, cowering Cuifs, blockheads, ninnies 

Cowr, to cower Cour, toCummock, a short staff 

<^ower xvith a crooked head 

Co\yt, acolt Cowte, a colt Cunnin, cunning 
Cozie; COS3' Curch, a female headdress 

Crabbit, crabbed Curchie, a courtesy 

Crack, a story or harangue, Curmurring, a rumbling 

talk noise 

Crackin, conversing, gossip- Curpin, the crupper. Curple, 

^'^& the crupper 

Craft, a croft Cushats, wood-pi creons 

Craft ng, a croft ridge Custock, the centre of a 

Craig, the throat Craigie, stem of cabbage 

dim. of craig, the throat Cutty, a short, bob-tailed 
Craigs, crags Craigy, crag- Cut, fashion, shape 

gy 

Craiks, land rails Daddie, father 



VII 



GLOSvSARY, 



Daez't, stupefied 

Daffiti, merriment 

Daft, foolish 

Dails, deals of wood for 
sitting on 

Daimen-icker, an ear of corn 
now and then 

Daisie, the dais}^ 

Damies, dim. of dames 

Dam, water 

Danton, to subdue 

Dang, knocked, pushed 

Dapprt, dappled 

Darin, daring 

Darklins, darkling 

Darlin, darling 

Daud, to pelt, Daudin', 
pelting 

Dauntingh% dauntlcssh^ 

Daur, to dare. Daur't, dar- 
ed. Daur na, dare not 

Daut, to fondle, to make of, 

Dawtc, to fondle, Dawted, 
fondled, caressed 

Daurk, a day's labor 

Daviely, spiritless 

Davie's, King Davids 

Daw, dawn Dawin, the 
dawning 

Dawds, lumps, large pieces 

Dead-sweer, but little inclin- 
ed 

Deave, to deafen 

Deils, devils, Deil ma care, 
devil may care, Deil haet, 
devil a thing 

Deleerit, delirious 

Delvin, delving 

Descrive to describe 

Deservin, deserving, Deser- 
vint, deserving of it 

Deuk, a duck 

Devel, a stunning blow 

Dictionar, a dictionary 

Diddle, to strike or jog 



Differ, difference 

Dight, cleaned from chaff; 

to wipe aw^ay 
Din, dun in color 
Dine, dinner-time 
Ding, to surpass, be pushed 

or upset. Dings, knocks 
Dink, neat, trim 
Dinna, do not 
Dinner'd, dined 
Dirl, a vibrating blow; to 

vibrate, Dirl'd, executed 

with spirit 
Disagreet, disagreed 
Dizzen, a dozen 
Dizzie, dizz^^ 
Dochter, daughter 
Doin', doing 
Doited, stupefied 
Donsie, unlucky 
Dooked, ducked 
Dools, sorrow, Doolfu', 

sorrowful 
Doos, pigeons 
Dort}', supercilious, huff^^ 
Douce, grave, sober, Douce- 

ly, soberly 
Douser, more decorous 
Doudled, dandled 
D ought, • could, might 
Dought na, did not, or did 

not choose to 
Doup, the backside 
Doup-skelper, one that 

striks the tail 
Dour, stubborn 
Dow, do, can. Dowe, do can 
Dowff, pitiless, sillv 
Dowie, low-sjiirited 
Downa bide, cannot stand 
Downa do, a phrase signi- 

iymg, impotence 
Doylt, stupid 
Doytin, walking stupidly 
Dozen'd, impotent, torpid 



GLOvSSARY. VITI 

Dozin, stupefied, iinpotcnt Earns, eagles 

Draiglet, draggled Eastlin, eastern 

Drants, sonr humors Ee,C3'e, to wateh Een, tycs 

Drap, drop, a small cpianti- E'c brie, the eyebrow 

ty. Drapi)ie, dim. of drnp E'en, evening li'enins, 
Drapping, dro]iping evenings 

Draunting, drawling, of a Eerie, scared, dreading 

slow enunciation spirits 

Draw't, draw it Eild, age 

Dree, to endure Eke, also 

Dreeping, dripping Elbucks, elbows 

Dreigh, tedious Eldritch, frightful 

Dribble, drizzle Eleekit, elected 

Driddle, to play, to move Eller, an elder. 

slowlv En', end 

Drift, a drove. Fell aff the Enbrugh, Edinburgh Em'- 

drift, wandered from his brugh, Edinburgh 

companions Enow, enough 

Droddum, the breech Ensuin, ensuing 

Drone, the bagpipe Erse, Gaelic 

Droop-rumpl't, that droops Especial, especially 

at the crupper Ether-stanc, adder-stone 

Drouk, to moisten, Droukit, Ettle, design. 

wet, drenched Expcekit, expected Expee', 

Drouth, thirst Drouth}-, expect 

thirst}- Eydent, diligent 

Druken, drunken p^'^ lot. Fa, fall 

Drumly, muddy Face't, faced 

Drummock, meal and w-ater paddom't, fathomed 

mixed raw p^g fo^. 

Drunt, pet, sour humor Faem foam 
Dry, thirsty Faikit, baited 

Dubs, small ponds Failins, failings 

Duds, garments Duddie, Pair-fa, a benediction 

ragged. Duddies, garments Pairin, a present, a reward 
Dung, knocked Fairlv, entirelv, completelv 

Dunted, beat, thumped Pallow, a fellow 
Dunts, blows, knocks F'a'n have fallen 

Durk, a dirk Pan'', found. Fand, found 

Dusht, pushed by a ram orp^j-jg^ cakes of oat bread 

ox Fash, trouble mvsclf, Fash 

Dwalling, dwelling vourthumb, trouble vour- 

Dyvors, bankrupts, disrep- g^lf in the least, Fash't, 

utable fellows troubled, Fashous, troub- 

somc 



IX GLOSSARY. 

Fasten-een, fasten's-even Fissle, to fidget 
Fatt'rels, ribbon-ends Fit, foot 

Faught, a fight Fittie-lan', the near horse of 

Fauld, a fold the hindmost pair in the 

Faulding, folding. Faulding plough 

slap, the gate of the fold Fizz, to make a hissing 
Faiise, false noise like fermentation 

Faut, fault, Faute, fault Flafian, flapping, fluttering. 
Fautor, a transgressor Flae, a flea 

Fawn, fallen Flang, did fling or caper 

Fawsont, seemly Flannen, flannel 

Fearfu', fearful Flarin, flaring 

Feat, spruce Flatt'rin, flattering 

Feclit, to fight, fechtin, Fleech'd supplicated Fleech- 

fighting in, supplicating 

Feck, the greater portion Fleesh, a fleece 
Feckly, mostly Fleg, a kick, a random 

Fecket, an under waistcoat - stroke, a sudden motion 

with sleeves Fleth'rin, flattering 

Feckless, powerless, without Plewit, a sharp blow 

pith Fley'd, scared 

Feg, a fig Flichterin, fluttering 

Feide, feud Flie, a fl^^ 

Feirie, clever Flinders, shreds 

Fell, the flesh immediately Flinging, capering 

under the skin; keen, bit- Flingin-tree, a flail 

ing, nipp^^ tasty Fliskit, fretted 

Fen, a successful struggle, a Flit, remove 

shift Flittering, fluttering 

Fend, to keep ofl', to live Flyte, to scold 

comfortably Fodgel, squat or plump 

Ferlie, to wonder, a term of Foord, a ford Foor, to fare 

contempt Foorsda^', late in the after- 

Fetch't, pulled intermittent noon 

ly F'orbears, forefathers 

Fey, predestined Forbj-e, besides 

Fidge, to fidget Fidgin-fain Forfairn, w^orn out, jaded 

fidgeting with eagerness. Forfoughten, fatigued 
Fiel, soft, smooth Forgather, to make ac- 

Fient, a petty oath The quaintance with, For- 

fient a, the devil a bit of. gather'd, met 
Fier, healthj^, sound, broth- Forgie, forgive 

er, friend Fiere, friend, Forjesket, jaded with fa- 
comrade tigue 
Fillie, a filly Forrit, forward 
Fin', find For't, for it 



GLOSSARY. X 

Fother, fodder Gash, sagacious 

Foil, full, tipsy; a bushel Gashin, conversing 

Foughten, troubled Gat, got 

Fouth, an abundance Gate, manner, way or road 

Frae, from Gatt\', gouty 

Frammit, estranged Gaucie, comfortable looking 

Freath, to froth Gaucy, jolh% large 

Fremit, strange foreign Gaud, the plough shaft 

Frien', friend Gaudsman, a plough-boy. 

Fright, a person or thing of the boy who drives the 

an extraordinary- aspect horses in the plough 
Fu', full Gaun, going 

Fud, the scut of the hare Gaunted, yawned 
Fuft''t, did blow Gawkies foolish persons 

Fumbling, awkward Gaylies, pretty well 

Furs, furrows Gear, wealth, goods Weel 

Furr-ahin, the hindmost hained gear, well saved 

horse in the right hand drink 

of the plough Geek, to toss the head in 

Furder, futherance wantonness or scorn 

Furms, wooden forms orGeds, pike 

seats Gentles, great folk 

Furnicator, fornicator Gent^^ slender 

Fushionless, pithless Geordie, George The 3'ellow 

¥y, an exclamation of haste lettered Geordie, a guinea 
Fyke, to be in a fuss about Get, offspring 

trifles Ghaists, ghosts 

Fyle, to soil or dirty. F^d'd Gie, give Gien, given Gies, 

dirtied give us Gied, gave Gi'en 

given 
Gad, to speak fluently, theGif, if 

mouth Giftie, dim. oi gift 

Gabs, tongues Giglets, playful children 

Gae, go, gave Gillie, dim. of ^^/// 

Gaed, walked, went Gilpey, a young girl 

Gaets, manners Gimmer, a ewe from one to 

Gairs, triangular pieces of two vears old 

cloth inserted at the bot-Qjj^ jf' 

torn of a shift or robe ^ipsie, gipsv 
Gane, gone Gaen, gone » ' - ^ 

Gano" to o'o 

Gan|rel, x^agrant "'«" ^^^ toasting cakes on 

Gapin, gaping ^"^ "^"^' 

Gar, to make Gar't, made Girn, to grin 
Garten, garter Oirrs, hoops 



XI GLOSSARY. 

Gizz, a wig Grippet, gripped, caught 

Glaikit, thonghtless caught hold of 

Glaizie, glittering Grissle, gristle 

Glamor, glamour Grit, great 

Glaum'd, grasded Grozct, a gooseberry 

Gled, a kite Grumphie, the sow 

Gleed, a live coal Grun, ground 

Gleg, sharp, cleverly, swiftly Grunstane, grindstone 

Gleib, a glebe Gruntle, the countenance, a 

Glib-gabbet, that speaks grunting noise 

smoothly and readily Grunzie, the mouth 

Glinted, glanced Glintin, Grushie, thick, of thriving 
^ glancing growth 

Goamin, twilight, Gloamin- Grusome, ill favored 

shot, a twilight interview Gruttcn, wept 
Glowr'd, looked earnestly Gude, the Supreme Being, 

stared, Glowran, staring good Gudeman, goodman 
Glunch, a frown Gudes, goods, merchandise 

Gotten, got Guid, good 

Goavan,lookingroun(l v/ith Guid-morning, good morn- 

a strange inquiring gaze, ing 

staring stupidly Guid-c'en, good even, Gud- 

Gowan, the daisv, Gowany een, good even 
^ daisied Guid-wife, the mistress of 

Gowd, gold, Gowden, golden the house; the landlady 
Gowh"'d, knocked hither and Guid-father, father-in-law 

thither Gully, a large knife 

Gowk, a foolish person Gulravagc, riot 

Gowling, howling Gumlie, muddy, discolored 

Granes, groans Grained, Gust}', tasteful 

grinned Gumption, understanding 

Grai]), a pronged instrument Gutcher, grandfather 

for cleaning stables 
Graith, harness, held imple- Ha', hall, Ha'folk, servants 

ments, accoutrements Ha' Bible, hall-Bible 
Graff, a grave Haddin, holding, inheritance 

Grannie, grandmother Hae, have, here (in the 

Grabe, to grope G raped sense of take) 

groped Grapit, groaped Haet, the least thing, Deil 
Grat, wept haet, an oath of negation, 

Gratefu', grateful Damn'd haet. nothing 

Gree, a prize, to agree Gree't Haff, the half, Ha'f, the half 

agreed Haffets, the temples, Haffet 

Greet, to weep Greetin, locks, locks at the temples 
Griens, covets, longs for Hafflins, parth^ HafflinS' 
Grievin, grieving wnse, almost itself 



GLOSSARY. XII 

Hag, a scar or gnlfin mos- Ha'pence, halfpence 

ses and moors Happer, a ho])])er 

Haggis, a kind of pudding Happing, hop])ing 

boiled in the stomach of Hap -step -an' -low p, hop, 

a cow or sheep step, and jump, with a 

Hain, to spare, to save light air_v step 

Hain'd, spared Harkit, harkencd 

Hairst, harvest Har'sts, harvests 

Haith, a pretty oath Harn, yarn 

Haivers, idle talk Hash, a soft useless fellow 

Hal', hall Hash'd, did smite, did dis- 

Hald, an abiding place figure 

Hale, hold, entire HaleHaslock, discriptive of the 

breeks, breeches without finest wool, being the lock 

holes, uninjured that grows on the halse or 

Haly, holy throat 

Halian, a particular parti- Has't, has it 

tion wall in a cottage Hastit, hasted 
Hallions, clowns, common Hand, to hold, would keep 

fellows Hands, holds 

Hallowmas, the thirty-first Hauf, tr.e half 

of October Haughs, lowd\'ing lands, 

Hame, home Hamely,home- meadows 

ly ^ Hauns, hands, as applied to 

Han', ' hand Han -breed, workmen, persons 

hand-breadth Haurl, to drag Haurls, 

Han' afore, the foremost drags 

horse on the left hand in Hanrlin, peeling, dragging 

the plough " off 

Han'ahin, the hindmost Hauver, oatmeal 

horse on the left hand in Hav'rel, half- watted 

the plough Havins, good manners 

Hand-wealed, carefully chos- Hawkie, a cow, properly 

en by hand one with white face 

Handless, without hands, Heapet, heaped Heepit heap- 

tiseless, awkward ed 

Han't handed Healsome, wholesome 

Hangit, hanged Hearin', hearing Hear't, 

Hansel, hansel throne, a hear it 

throne newly inherited, a Heartie, dim. of hcnrt 

gift for a particular sea- Hearse, hoarse 

son, or the first money or Hech, an exclamation of 

any particular occasion wonder 
Hap, to wrap Winter hap, Hecht, foretold, offered 

winter clothing Hechtin', making to pant 

Hap, hop Heckle, a board in which 



XIII GLOvSSARY. 

are fixed a number of fore it is shorn 
sharp pins, used in dress- Hog-score, a kind of dis- 
ing hemp, flax, &c tance-Hne drawn across 

Hee, balou, a term used by the rink 

nurses when lulHng chikl- Hog-shouther, a kind of 
ren horse-play by justling 

Heels-o'er-gowdy, head over with the shoulder 

heels Hol't, holed perforated 

Heeze, to elevate to hoist Hool, the outer skin or case 
Heft, haft Hoodie-craw, the hooded 

Hein, shinn'd in-shinned crow 

Hellim, the helm Hoodock, miserly 

Hen-broo, hen broth Hoolie! stop! 

Herrin, herring Hoord, hoard Hoordet, 

Herrlet, harried hoarded 

Herrjaiient, plundering, de- Horn, a spoon made of horn 

vastation a comb made of horn 

Hersel, herself Hornie, Satan 

Het, hot Gie him't bet, give Hostin, coughing Host, a 

him it hot cough 

Heiigh, a coal pit a steep Hotch'd, fidgetted 
Heuk; a reaping-hook Houghmagandie, fornication 

Hie, high Hich, high Houletf, owls Howlet-faced 

Hidin', hiding faced like an owl 

Hilch, to hobble Hilchiii, Honsie. dim. of house 

halting Hov'd, swelled 

Hill tap, hill top Howdie, a midwife 

Hiltie skiltie, helter-skelter Howe, hollowly a hollow 
Himsel, himself or dell Howes hollows 

Hine}', lione3^ Howe-backit, sunk in the 

Hing, to hang Hingin', back 

hanging Hinging hanging Howkit, digged, dug up 
Hirples, walks witli difficul- Hoy't, urged 
ty Hirplin, limping Ho3'se, hoist 

Hissels, hissel so man\^ cat- Hoyte, to ambly crazily 
tie as one person can at-Hughoc, Hugh 
tend Hunder, a hundred 

Histie, dry ]3arren Hunkers, hams 

Hitch, to loop or knot Huntit, hunted 

Hizzie, young women Hurcheon, a hedgehog 

Hoast, a cough Hurchin, an urchin 

Hoble, to hobble Hurdies, hips 

Hoddin, the motion of a Hurl, to fall down ruinous- 
man on horseback ly; to ride 
Hoggie, a young sheep af- Hushion, a cushion 
tcr it is smeared and be- Hvte, mad 



GLOSSARY. 



XIV 



Ickcr, an car of corn 
Icr'oc, a great-grandchild 
Ilk, each Ilka, every 
Ill-willie, ill natured 
Indentin, indenturing 
Ingine, genitis, ingenuit^^ 
Ingle-lowe, the household 
fire. Ingle-cheek, the fire- 
side 
In's, in his In't, in it 
I'se, I shall or will 
Isna, is not 
Ither, other 
Itsel, itself 

Jad, a jade Jads, jades 

Jan war, January 

Jauk, to dally, to trifle 

Jaukin, trifling, dallying 

Jauner, foolish talk 

Jauntie, dim. of jaunt 

Jaups, splashes 

Jaw, to pour 

Jillet, a jilt 

Jimp, to jump; slender Jimps 
a kind of easy sta3's 

J imply, neatly 

Jink, to dodge Jinkin, dodg- 
ing 

Jinker, that turns quickly 

J inkers, gay sprightly girls 

Jirkinet, an outer jacket or 
jerkinet worn by women 

Jirt, a jerk 

Jobbin, jobbing 

Joctclegs, clasp-knives 

Joes, lovers Jo, a sweetheart 
a term expressing affection 
and some degree of famil- 
iarity 

Johnny Gcd's Hole, the 
grave-digger 

Jokin, joking 

Jorum, the jug 

jouk t(^ dvick; to make ob- 



eisance 
Jow, to jow; to swing and 

sound 
Jumpit, jumped 
Jundie, to justle 

Kaes, daws 

Kail, broth Kail-blade, the 
leaf of the colewort Kail- 
runt, the stem of the cole- 
wort 

Kain, farm produce paid as 
rent 

Kebars, rafters 

Kebbuck, a cheese Kebbuck- 
heel, the remaining por- 
tion of a cheese 

Keckle, to cackle to laugh 

Keekin-glass, a looking- 
glass 

Keekit, peeped 

Keeks, peeps 

Keepit, kept 

Kelpies, water-spirits 

Ken, know Kent, knew 
Kend, knows Kenn'd, 
know 

Kennin, a little bit 

Kep, to each anything when 
falling 

Ket, fleece 

Kiaugh, anxiety 

Kickin', kicking 

Kilbagie, the name of a cer- 
tain kind of whisky 

Kilt, to cut up 

Killie, Kilmarnock 

Kimmer, a girl 

Kin', kind 

Kintra, countrj^ 

Kintra cooser, a country 
stallion 

King's-hood, a part of the 
entrails of an ox 

Kirn, a churn Kirns, bar- 



XV GLOSSARY. 

vest homes Lane, alone Lanely, lonely 

Kirsen, to christen Lang, long Langer, longer 

Kist, a shop counter Lap, did leap 

Kissin, kissing Laughin, laughing 

Kitchen, any thing that Lave, the rest 

eats with bread to serve Lav rocks, larks 

for soup or gravy Kit- Lawin, shot, reckoning, bill 

chen, seasons, makes pal-Lawlan, lowland 

atable Lazie, lazy 

Kittle, to tickle, tickHsh Lea'e, leave 
Kittlin, a kitten " Leal, true 

Kiutlin, cuddling Lea-rig, a grassy ridge 

Knaggie, like 'knage, or Lear, lore, learning 

pomts of rock Lee, the lea 

Knappin-hammers, ham- Lee -king, live-long 

mers for breaking stones. Leesome, pleasant 
Knowe, a hihock Leeze-me, a phrase of con- 

Knurl, a churl gratulatory endearment, 

Knurlin, a dwarf I am happy happy in thee 

Kye, cows or proud of thee 

Kyle, a district of Ayrshire Leister, a three-barbed in- 
Kytes, bellies strument for sticking fish 

Kythe, discover Len', lend 

Leugh, laughed 
Laddie, a lad Leuk, look, appearance 

Lade, a load Ley crap, lea crop 

Laggen, the angle between Libbet, gelded 

the side and bottom of a Licks, a beating Gat his 

wooden dish licks, got a beating 

Laigh, low Licket, beaten 

Laik, lack Lickit, licked with desire 

Lair, lore Lien, lain 

Lairing, wading and sink-Liein, telling lies 

ing in snow or mud Lift, heaven 

Laith, low Lift, a large quantity 

Laik, lack Lightl}^ to undervalue to 

Lair, lore slight 

Lairing, wading and sink- Liken, to compare 

ing in snow or mud Lilt, sing 

Laith, loath Limbics, dim. of limbs 

Laithfu', bashful Limmer, a kept mistress a 

Lallan, lowland strumpet 

Lambie, dim. of Inmb Limpit, limped 

Lampit, limped Linket, tripped deftly Lin^ 

I^an', land estate kin, tripping 



(H.OSSARV. 



XVI 



Linn, £1 waterfall Lin, a 

waterfall 
Lint, flax Sin lint was i' the 

bell, since flax was in 

flower 
Linties, linnets 
Lippened, trusted 
Lippie, dim. of Up 
Loan, milkin^j^ place Loan, 

lane 
Lo'ed, loved 
Lon'on, London 
Loof, palm of the hand 

Looves, i^alms 
Loosome, lovesome 
Loot, did let 
Losh, a pretty oath 
Lough, lake 
Louns, ragamuffins 
Loup, to leap 
Lovin, loving 
Low, flame 
Lowping, leaping Lowpin, 

leaping 
Lowin, blazing Lowan, 

flaming 
Lovvs'd, loosed Lowse, to 

loosen 
Luckie, a designation ap- 

applitd to an elderly 

woman 
Lug, the ear, to produce, to 

bring out Lugget, earned 
Lugget caup, eared cup 
Luggies, small wooden disli- 

with handles 
Luke, look 
Lum, the chimney 
Lunardie, a bonnet called 

after Lunardi the aeronaut 
Lunt, a column of smoke 
Luntin, smoking 
Luve, love Luvers lovers 
Lyart, gray 
I/ynjn, lining 



Mae, more 

Mair, more 

Maist, almost, that nearly 
Maistly, mostly 

Mak, make Makin, making 

Mailie, Molly 

Mailins, farms Mailen, farm 

Mang, among 

Alanse, a parsonage house • 

Manteeles, mantles 

Mark, marks 

Mar's year, 1715 the year 
of Mar's rebellion 

Masiilum, mixed corn 

Maskin-pat, a tea-pot 

Maukin, a hare 

Maun, must Maunna, must 
not 

Maut, malt 

Mavis, the thrush 

Mawin, mowing 

Mawn, a basket, mown 

Maybe, perhaps 

Meere, a mare 

Meikle, as much 

Melder, corn or grain of 
any kind sent to the mill 
to be ground 

Mell, to meddle 

Melvis, to soil wath meal 

Men', mend 

Mense, good manners 

Mess John, the clergyman 

Messin , a dog of mixed breeds 

Midden, the dunghill Mid- 
den-creels, dunghill baskets 

Midden-hole, the dunghill 

Midge, a gnat 

Mim, prim 

Mim-mou'd, prim-mouthed 

Min', mind Minds nie, re- 
members me 

Min, remembrance 

Min't-na, cared not 



XVII GLOSSARY 

Minnie, mother Negleckit, negleeted 

Mirk, dark Nenk, nook corner 

Misca'd, abused Miska't, New-ea'd, newly driven 

abused Niek, to break, to sever sud- 

Misguidin', misguiding dently, Nicks, knocks, 

Mishanter, misfortune dis- blows. Auld, crummie's 

aster nicks, marks on the horn 

Mislear'd, mischievous of a cow 

Mist, missed Nickan, cutting 

Misteuk, mistook Nicket, caught, cut off 

Mither, mother Nick-nackets, curiosities 

Mixtie-maxtie, confusedly Niest, next Neist, next 

mixed Nieves, fists Nieve-fu', fist- 

Mizzled, having different full 

colors Niffer, exchange 

Moistify, to make moist Niger, a negro 
Mony, many Nits, nuts 

Mools, the earth of graves Nocht, nothing 
Moop, to nibble; to keep Norland, Northland 

company with Notet, noted 

Moorlan', moorland Nowte, cattle 

Moss, a morass 

Mou, mouth O', of 

Moudieworts, moles O'reword, any term frequent- 

Mousie, dim. of mouse ly repeated, a refrain 

Movin', moving 0'erlay,an outside dress, an 

Muckle, great big, much overall 

Musie, dim. of muse Ony, any 

Muslin-kail, broth compos- Orra, supernumerary 

ed simply of water shelled O't, of it O'ts, of it-is 

barlev and greens Ought, aught any thing 

Mutchkin, an English pint Oughtlins, anythmg m the 
Mysel, myself least 

Na', not no Ourie, shivering 

Nae, no. Naebody, nobody Oursel, ourselves 
Naething, nothing Out-cast, a quarrel 

Naig, a nag Naigies, dim. Outler, un-housed 

of nags Owre, over too 

Nane, none Owrehip, a way of fetching 

Nappy, ale a blow with the hammer 

Natch.' grip hold. To natch over the arm 

to lay hold of violently Owsen, oxen 
Near't, near it 

Neebors, neighbors Pack, pack an' thick, on 

Needna, need not friendly or intimate terms 



GLOSSARY. 



XVIII 



Packs, twelve stones Poortith, poverty 

Paidle, to paddle Paidles Posic, a bouquet 
wonders about without Pouchie, dim. of por/c/2 
object or motive Paidl't, Pouk, to pluck 
paddled Poupit, pulpit 

Painch, paunch, stomach Pouse, a push 
Paitricks, partridges Poussie, a hare 

Pangs, crams Pouts, poults chicks 

Parishen, the parish Pouther'd, powdered 

Parritch, oatmeal boiled in Pouthery powdery 

water, stirabout Pou't, pulled. Pou, to pull 

Parritch-pats, porridge-pots Pow, the head, the skull 



Pat, put, a pot 

Pat tie, a plough-staft' 

Paughty, haughty 

Paukie, cunning, sly 

Pay't, paid. 

Pechan, the stomach 

Pechin, panting 

Peel, a tour 

Peelin, peeling 

Penny wheep, small beer 

Petticoatie, dim. of petti 

coat 
Pet tie, a plough-staft' 
Phraisin, flattering 

small quanity 
Pits, puts 
T3ublic 



Pickle, a 

Pit, put. 

Placads, 

tions 



Powme, a pony, a small 

horse 
Powther, powder 
Praise, be blest, an express 

ion of thankfulness 
Pray in', prajnng 
Preen, pin 
Prent, print 
Pridefu' pridefull 
Pree, to taste. Prie'd, tast- 
• ed 

Prief, proof 
Priestie, dim. of priest 
Priggin, haggling 
Primsie, demure, precise 
Propone, 



to propose 
proclama-proveses, provosts 

Pu', to pull. Pu'd, pulled 
Plack, an old Scotch com, Puddock-stool smushrooms 
the third part of a Scotch pQddin' a pudding 
penny, twelve of which Pund, Pound 
make an English penny Pursie, dim. of purse 
Plaiden, plaiding. Pladie Pyke, to pick 



dim. of plnid 
Plaister, plaster 
Platie, dim. of plate 
Pleugh, plough 
Pliskie, a trick 
Pliver, a plover 
Plumpit, plumped 
Pocks, wallets 
Poind, to seize for 

tration 
Poind't, poinded 



Pyet, the magpie 
Pyles, grains 

Quat, quit, quitted 
Quaick, quack 
Ouaukin, quaking 
Ouey, a cow from one year 
to two years old 
seques-Ouo', quoth 

Rad, afraid 



XIX 



GLOSSARY. 



Ragweed, the plant rag- 
wort 

Rade, rode 

Raibles, rattles, nonsense 

Rair, to roar. Wad rair't, 
would have roared 

Rairin, roaring 

Raise, rose 

Raize, to madden, to inflame 

Ramblin, rambling 

Ramfeezl'd, fatigued 

Ramgunshoclv, rugged 

Ram-stam, forward 

Randie, quarrelsome 

Randy, a term of oppro- 
brium generally applied 
to a woman 

Ranklin', rankling" 

Ranting, noisy, full of ani- 
mal spirits 

Rants, jollifications 

Rape, rope 

Raploek, coarse 

Rash, a rush. Rash-buss, 
a bush of rushes 

Rattan, a rat 

Rattons, rats 

Raucle, fearless 

Rauglit, reached 

Raw, a row 

Rax, to stretch. Rax'd, 
stretched out, extended 

Raxin, stretching- 

Ream, cream 

Rebutc, a rebut, a discomfi- 
ture 

Red, counsel 

Red-wud, stark mad 

Reekin, smoking. Reeks, 
smokes. Reekit, smoked, 
smoky 

Reestit, withered, signed, 
stood restive 

Reflec', reflect 

Reif randies, sturdy beg- 
gars 



Remead, remedy 

Remuve, remove 

Respeckit, respected 

Restricked, restricted 

Rew, to take pity 

Rickles, stocks of grain 

Rig, a ridge 

Riggin, rafters 

Rigwooddie, withered, sap- 
less 

Rin, run. Rinnin, running 

Rink, the course of the 
stones: a term in curling 

Ripp, a handful of unthresh- 
ed corn 

Ripple, weakness in the 
back and reins 

Ripplin-kame, a flax-comb 

Ripps, handfulls 

Riskit, made a noise like 
the tearing of roots 

Rive, to burst 

Rives, tears to pieces 

Rives't, tears it 

Roastin', roasting 

Rock, distaft' 

Rockin, a social gathering, 
the woman spinning on 
the rock or distaff 

Roon, round 

Roose, to prase. Roos'd 
praised 

Roost}^ rusty 

Roun', round 

Roupet, horse, as with a 
cold 

Routhie, well filled, abund- 
ant 

Rowes, rolls 

Rowin, rolling 

Row't, rolled 

Rowte, to low, to bellow 

Rowth, abundance 

Rowtin, lowing 

Rozet, rosin 

Ruefu', rueful 



GLOSSARY. 



XX 



Runs^, a cudgel 
Kiinkl'd, wrinkled 
Runts, the stem of 
Rvke, reach 



th 



Sabs, sobs 

Sae, so 

Saft, soft 

Sair, sore, to serve 

Sairly, sorely 

Sair't, served 

Sang, song 

Sannoek, Alexander 

Sark, a skirt 

Sarkit, provided in skirt 

Sauce, scorn, insolence 

Saugh, the willow 



scantly 

Scroggie, covered 
cal)bage stunted shrubs 

Sculdudd'r^', a ludicious 
term denoting fornicytion 

See't, see it 

Seizin, seizing 

Scl, self 

Seirt, sold 

Sen', send. Sen't, send it 

Servan', servant 

Settlin, gat a fearfu' settlin, 
was frightened into quiet- 
ness 

Set, lot. Sets, becomes, sets 
off, starts 

Shachl't, deformed 



Saugh woodies, ropes made Shaird, a shred 



of willow withes 
Saul, soul 
Saumont, a salmon 
Saunt, saints 
Saut, salt. Sautet, salted 
Saut backets, salt 
Saw, to sow 
Sawin, sowing 
Sax, six 

Saxpence, sixpence 
Say't, say it 
Scaith, htirt 
Scar, to scare 
Scaud, to scald 
Scaur, frightened 
Scawl, a 'scold 
Scho, she 
Schoolin', school in^t 

ins: 



Shangan, a cleft stick 
Shank, the leg and foot 
Shanks, legs 

Shanna, shall not. Sha'na, 
shall not 
buckets Sharin't, sharing it 
Shaul, shallow 
Shaver, a wag 
Shavie, a trick 
Shaw, show. Shaw'dshowd 
Shaws, wooded dells 
Sheep-shank, wha thinks 
himsel nae sheep-shank 
bane, who thinks himself 
no unimportant personage 
Sheers, shears sissors 
Sherra-muir, sherrif-muir 
, teach- Sheugh, a trench 
Shcuk, shook 
Shiel, a sheiling, a 



hut 



Scones, iKirley cakes 
c^conner, to loathe, loathing Shill, shrill 
Scraichin, screaming Shillin's, shillings 

Scrapin', scraping Shog, a shock 

Screechin, screeching Shools, shovels 

Screed, a tear, a rent; to Shoon, shoes 

repeat glibly Shore, to threaten. Shor'd, 

vScrievin, gliding easily threatened, offered 

Scrimpit, scanty. Scrimply, Shouldna, should not 



XXI GLOSSARY. 

Shouther, shoulder Slae, the sloe. 

Shure, did shear, did cut Slaps, flashes, gates, stiles, 

grain breaches in hedges. 

Sic, such. Siclike, suchlike Slaw, slow. 
Sicker, secure Slee, shy. Sleest. slvest. 

Sidclins, sidelong Sleekit, sleek. 

Sighin', sighing Slidd'ry, slippery. 

Siller, monty, of the color Sloken^ to quench, to allay 

of silver thirst 

Simmer, summer. Simmers Slypet, slipped, fell over. 

summers Sma', small. 

Sin', since. Sin syne, since Smeddum, dust, powder. 
Sindry, sundry Smeek, smoke. 

Sinfu' sinful Smiddy, a smithy. 

Singet, signed Smoor'd, smothered. 

Singin', singing. Sing't, Smoutie, smutty. 

sing it Smytrie, a number huddled 

Sinn, the sun. Sinny, sunny together. 
Skaith, injury. Skaithing, Snap, smart. 

injuring Snapper, to stumble. 

Skeigh, high-mettled, shy Snash, abuse, impertinence. 

proud disdainful Snaw broo, melted snow. 

Skellum, a worthless fellow Snawie, snow\'. 
Skelp, a slap, to run Snawy, snowy. 

Skelpie-limmer, a technical Sued, to lop, to cut. 

term in female scolding Snell, bitter, biting. Snell- 
Skelpin, walking, smartly, est, sharpest, keenest. 

resounding Sneeshin-mill, a snuff-box. 

Skelping, slapping. Skelpil, Snick, the latchet of a 

hurried door, 

Skinklin, glittering Snirtle, to snigger. 

Skirl, to shreik. Skirlin, Snool, to cringe, to submit 

shreiking. Skirl'd, shriek- tamely; to snub. 

ed Snoov't, went smoothly. 

Sklent, to deviat from Snoov'd, sneaked. 

truth. Sklentin, slanting. Snowkit, snuffed 
Sklented, slanted. Sodger, a soldier Sodger- 

Skouth, range, scope. in', soldiering 

Skreech, to scream. Soger, a soldier 

Skrieigh, to scream. Sonsie, jolly, comely 

Skyrin, any thing thatSoom, to swim 

strongly takes the eye,Soor, sour 

showy, gaudy. • Sootie, sooty 

Skyte, a sharp oblique Sough, a heavy sigh 

stroke. Souk, a suck, 

Slade, slid. Soupe, a spoonful, a small 



GLOSSARY. XXII 

qnanity of anytlungliqiiid Staclicr't, staggered 
Souple, supple Staek, stuck 

Souter, a shoemaker Sow- Staggie, dim oi' stnj^ 

ter, a shoemaker Staig, a horse of one, two, 

Sowps, spoonfuls or three years old, not 

Sowth, to try over a tune yet broken for riding, 

with a low whistle nor employed in work 

Sowther, to solder, to make Stan', a stand Wad stan't, 

up would have stood 

Spae, to prophesy Stanes, stones 

Spails, ehips of wood Stang, to sting 

Spairges, dashes or scatters Stank, a pool or pond 

about Stap, to stop 

Spairin, sparing Stark, strong 

Spak, spake Speik, spoke Starns, stars Starnies, dim 
Spate, a flood of starns 

Spavie, a disease Spaviet, Startin, starting 

having the spavin Startles, runs hvirriedly 

Spean, to wean Starvin, starving 

Speel, to climb. Specl'd, Staukin, stalking 

climbed Staumrel, half-witted 

Speer, to inquire Staw, to steal, to surfeit 

Spence, the country parlor Stechin, cramming, panting 
Spinnin, spinning wath repletion 

Spier, to ask, to inquire Steek, to close, Steeks, 
Spier'd, inquired Spier't, stitches, reticulations 

inquired Steer, to injure, to stir up 

Spleuchan, a tobacco-pouch Steer'd, molested 
Splore, a frolic Steeve, firm, compacted 

Sprackled, clambered Stells, stills 

Sprattle, to struggle Sten, a leap or bound Has- 

Spring, a quick air in music, t}^ stens, hasty stretches 

a Scottish reel or rushes 

Sprittie, full of spirits Sten't, reared 

Sprush, spruce Stents, assessments, dues 

Spunk, fire, mettle, a spark Steyest, stee])est 
Spunkie, full of spirit; whis-Stibble, stublDle Stibble-rig, 

key Spunkies, wills-o'- the reaper in harvest who 

the-wisp takes the lead; a stubblc- 

Spurtle, a stick with which ridge 

porridge, broth, &c., are Stick an stow, totally, al- 

stirred while boiling together 

Squattie, to sprawl Stilt, half 

Squeel, to scream Stimpart, an eighth part of 

Stacher'd, staggered, walk- a Winchester bushel 

ed unsteadlv Stirk, a cow or bullock a 



XXIII GLOSSARY. 

year old Sud, should 

Stocks, plants of cabbage Sugh, a rushing sound 
Stockit, stocked Sumphs, stupid fellow 

Stockin, stocking Stockins, Sune, soon 

stockings Suppin, supping 

Stoited, walked stupidly Suthron, Southern, English 
Stoitered, staggard "^ Swaird, sward 
Stoor, sounding hollowly Swall'd, swelled 

or hoarsely " Swank, stately 

Stoppit, stopped Swankies, strapping young 

Stot, an ox fjUows 

Stoure, dust, dust blown Swap, an exchange 

on the wind; pressure of Swarf, to swoon 

•circumstances Swat, did sweat 

Stowrie, dusty Swatch, sample, specimen 

Stown, stolen Swats, ale 

Stownlins, by stealth Swearin, swearing 

Stoyte, to stumble Sweatin, 

Strade, strode Swoor, swore 

Strae, a fair strae-death, a Swinge, to lash 

natural death Swingein, whipping 

Straik, to stroke Straikit, Swirl, a curve 

stroked Swith, swift 

Strak, struck Swither, doubt 

Strang, strong Sybow, a leek 

Strappan, strapping Strap- Syne, since, thed 

pin, strapping 
Straught, straight Tack, possession, lease 

Streamies, dim. of streams Tackets, a kind of nails for 
Streekit, stretched, Streekit driving into the heels of 

owre, stretched across shoes 

Strewin, strewing Tae, toe Three-tae'd, threc- 

Striddle, to straddle toed 

Stringin, stringing Taed, toad 

Stroan't, pissed Taen, taken 

Studdie, a stithy Tairge, to task severel3^ 

Stumpie, dim. o( stump, aTak, to take 

short quill Tald, told 

Strunt, spirituous liquor ofTane, the one 

any kind; to walk sturdily Tangs, tongs 
Stuff, corn Taps, tops. Tap-most, top- 

Sturt, to molest, to vex most 

Sturtin, frightened Tapetless, heedless, foolish 

Styme, see a styme see, in Tapsalteerie, topsy-turvy 

the least Tappit hen, a quart measure 

Sucker, sucj^ar Tarrow, to murmur 



GLOSSARY. XXIV 

Tarrow't, nuirniurcd Thraw, to sprain or twist; 

Tarry-brceks a sailor to cross or contradict. 

Tassic, a .i^oblct Thrawin, twistin<^ Thrawn 

Tauld, toid twisted 

Tawtcd, niattic(i uncombed Thraws, throes 

Tawie, that allows itself Threap, to maintain b^^ 

peaceably to be handled dint of assertion 
Tawpies, foolish, thought- Thresh, to thrash Thresh- 
less young person ing, thrashing 
Teats, small quantities Thrctteen, thirteen 
Teen, provocation, chagrin Thretty, thirty 
Tellin', telling Tell'd, told Thrissle, thistle 
Temper pin, the wooden pin Throwther, a'throwther 
used for tempering or reg- through-other, pell-mell 
ulating the motion of a Thuds, that makes a loud 
spinning wheel intermittent noise; resoun- 
Ten-hours-bite, a slight feed ding blows 
to the horses while in yoke Thumart, the weasel 
in the afternoon Thumpit, thumped 
Tent, to take heed, mark Thysel', thyself 
Tentie, heedful Tidins, tidings 
Teughly, toughlv Till, unto 
Teuk, took ' Till't, to it 
Thack an rape, clothes Tinimer, timber; the three 
Thae, these boughs. Timmer propt, 
Thairm, fiddlestring timber propped 
Thankfu', thankful Tine to lose; to go astray 
Thankit, thanked Tint, lost. Tint as win, 
Theekit, thatehrd, covered lost as won 

up, secured Tinkler, a tinker 

Thegither, together Tips, rams 

Themsels, themselves Tippence, twopence 

Thick, pack an thick, friendly' Tirl, to strip 
Thieveless, cold, dry; spited Tirlin, unroofing 
Thigger, begging Tirl'd, knocked 

Thir, these, their Tither, the other 

Thirl'd thrilled Tittlin, whispering 

Thole, to suffer, to endure Tocher, marriage portion 
Thou's thou art Tocher-band, bowrj^ bond 

Thowes, thaws Todlin tottering 

Thowless, slack, lazy Tods, foxes 

Thrang, bus}'; a crowd Toom, empt}' 
Thrapple, the throat Toop, a ram 

Thrave twenty-fourshcaves Toun, a hamlet, a farm- 
of corn, including two house 
shocks Tout, the blast of a horn 



XXV GLOSSARY. 

or trumpet Tysday'teen, Tuesday even- 

To've, to have ing 

Tow, a rope 

Towmond, a twelvemonth Uhchancy, dangerous 
Touzie, rough, shaggy Unco, very' great, extreme, 

Towzle, to rumpled Tow- strange 

zling, rumpling, dishevel- Uncos, strange things, news 

lino- " of the country side 

Tov,''a very old fashion ofUnkend, unknown Unkcn- 

female headdress "'^^ unknown 

Tovte, to totter Unsicker, unsecure 

Transmugrify'd, metamor- Unsakith'd, unhurt 

phoscd Upo', upon Upon't, upon it 

Trashtrie trash Vap'rin, vaporing 

Treadin treading Vauntie, oroud? in high 

Trews, trousers spirits 

Trickie, tricksy y^^^^ 

Trig, spruce, neat Viewin viewing 

Trinkling, trickling yj^jg^ ;■ ^^^^,^^ ^ column 

Troggm, ^ wares sold by y-^^^^ victual, grain Vittle, 

wandering merchants victual 

Troke to exchange; todeal y^gj^^ '^^j.^,^^!^ well-pleased 

with Vow, an interjection expres- 

Trottm, trotting ^^^.^ of admiration or sur- 

Trouse, trousers nri'«p 

Trow't, believed ^ 

Throwth, a petty oath Wa', a wall 

Try't have tried Wa' flower, the wallflower 

Tulzie, a quarrel Wab, web 

Tunefu', tuneful Wabster, weaver 

Tup, a ram Wad, would Wad a haen, 

Twa, two would have had Wadna, 

Twafauld, twofold doubled would not 

up Wad, a wadger, to wed 

Twa three, two or three Wadset, a mortgage 
Twal, twelve o'clock, Wae, sorrowful Wae worth 
Twalt, twelfth Twalpenny woe befall 

worth, t wel vepenny Wae days, woeful days. 

worth Waefu', woeful 

Twang, twinge W^aes-me, woe's-me 

Twined, reft Waesucks! alas! 

Twins, bereaves, takes Waft, the cross thread that 

aw^ay from goes from the shuttle 

Twistle, a twist through the web 

Tyke, a vagrant dog Waifs, stray sheep 

Tyne, to lose Wair't, spend it War'd, 



GLOSSARY. XXVI 

spent, bestowed Wee, little. A wee, a short 

Wale, ehoiee. Piek and wale, i)erio(l of time. A wee a- 

of choicest quality, Wal'd back, a small space be- 

chose hind 

Walie, ample, large Waly, Weel, well. Weel-gaun well 

ample t^oing 

Wallop in a tow, to hang Well-kent, well-know 

one's self Weet, wet, dew, rain 

Wame, the belly Wamefon, We'se, we shall or will 

bellyful ' Westlin, western 

Wan,\lid win, earned Wha, who. Wha ere, who- 

Wanehaneie, unlucky ever Wha's whose, Whase, 

W^anrestfu', restless wdiose 

Ware, to spend, worn Whaizle, to wheeze 

Wark, work Warks, works, Whalpit, whelped 

in the sense of buildings, Wham whom 

manufactures, etc. Whan, when 

Wark-lume, a tool to work Whang, a large slice; to 

with give the strappado 

Warld, world Warly, Whar, where Wharc, where 

worldly " Whatfore no? for what rea- 

Warlock, a \vizzard son not? 

Warran, warrant Whatt, did whet or cut 

Warsle, to wrestle Warstl'd Whaup, a curlew 

wrestled Whaur'll, where will 

Warst, worst Wheep, flying nimbly 

Wasna, w^as not Whiddin, running as a hare 

Wast, west Whigmeleeries, crotchets 

Wastrie, prodigalit3% riot Whingin, crying, complain- 
Wat, wet ing, fretting 

Wat, wot, know Wat na. Whins, furze bushcr 

wot not Whirligigums, useless orna- 

Waterbrose, brose made of ments 

weal and w^ater simph^ Whisht, peace Held my 
Wattle, a wand whist, kept silence 

Wauble, to swing, to reel Whiskit, whisked 
Waukit, thickened with toil Whissle, whistle So gat the 
Waukrife, wakeful whissle o' m3^ groat, to 

Wauks, awakes. Wauken- pla^^ a losing game 

ing, awakening Whistle, the throat 

Waukens, waken VVhitter, a hearty draught 

Waur, to fight, to defeat; of liquor 

worse. Waur't, worsted Whunstane, whinstone, 
Weans, children. Weanies, granite 

dim. of weans Whup, a whip 

Weason, the wcasand Whyles, sometimes 



XXVII GLOSSARY. 

Wi', with Wordie, dim. of word 

Wick, a term in curling, Word}^ wortln^ 

to strike a stone in anWorl', world 

oblique direction Worset, worsted 

Widdiefu, ill-tempered Wow, an exclamation of 

Widdle, a struggle or bus- pleasure or wonder 

tie VVrang, wrong, mistaken 

Wiel, a small whirlpool, Wranged, wronged 
Wifie, dim. of wife Wreeths, wreaths 

Wight, strong, powerful Wud, mad 
Wir cat, the wild cat Wumbie, a wimble 

Willie waught, a hearty W>le, to beguile, to decoy 

draught Wyling, beguiling 

W^illow wicker, the smaller Wyliecoat, "a flannel vest 

species of willow Wyte, to blame, to re- 

Willyart, wild strange, proach 

timid 
Wimpl't, wimpled. Wimp- Yard, a garden 

lin, waving, meandering Yaud, a worn out horse 
Win', wind. Wins, winds Yell, barren: as yell's the 
Winkin, winking bill, giving no more milk 

Win't, did wind than the Ijull 

Winna, will not Yerd, the churchyard 

Winnock-bunker, a seat in Yerket, jerked, lashed 

a window Ye'se, you shall or will 

Winnocks, windows Yestreen, yesternight 

Wintle, a staggering motion Yetts, gates 
Wintles, struggles Yeukin, itching 

Winze, an oath Yeuks, itches 

Wiss, wish Yill, ale 

Witha', wnthal Yill-caup ale stouj) 

Withoutten, without Yird, earth 

Wonner, a wonder, a con-Yirl, an earl 

temptuous appellation Yirtli, the earth 
Wons, dwells Yokin, yoking, a bout, a 

Woo', wool set-to 

Woodie, the gallows, a Yourscl, yourselves, your- 

rope, more ]:)r()perly one self 

made of withes or willows Yont, beyond 
Wooer-babs, garters knott-Yowes, ewes Yowie, dim. 

ed below the knee in a of rou'c 

couple of loops Yule. Christmas 



EXTRACTS FK(3M PREvSS NOTICES 
AND LETTERS. 

Dear Madam:— The board of Managers of the State 
of New York is preparing a chronicle of the work of 
women of the state in literature, to be exhibted at the 
Columbian Exhibition. Your name has been received 
as prominent in this department, and will 3^ou send to 
the chairman three of your best articles. At the close 
of the Exposition the collection will be preserved in 
State Librarv at Albany. Yery Truly Yours, 

Buffalo, N.'Y. Charlotte MuUegan, Chairman. 

Editor Evening News:— A copy of the Buffalo Evening 
News Jan. 14, 1899, containing a marked article en- 
titled: "Is Yaccination All Wrong," was received by 
the Independant College of Chicago. The paper is ably 
written by Mina S. Seymour. It was read by Prof. 
Clausen before the students of the college with favor- 
able comments. The faculty of the college wish to 
show their appreciation of the article and extend a 
vote of thanks to the writer. Sec. Independant Medi- 
cal College. 

Chicago, Jan. 20, 1899. Charles AI. Hovey. 

Dear Madam:— Permit me to thank you for your ex- 
cellent poem in the Non Conformist, which I have en- 
joyed. Whatever you publish I read with avidity as T 
count you one foremost capable progressive woman. 

Jamestown, N. Y. Henry Frank. ' 

The article you mention is from the pen of Mina S. 
Seymour. It is a shell explosion in the camp of the 
enemy. Mrs. Seymour has written much for the liber- 
al journals; mos'tly for the Iron-clad Age over the 
name of Grace Grenough. She wields an able graphic 
pen and is an interesting writer. H. S. Green, Ed. 

My Dear Madam:— Your reply to Senator Ingalls, 
npoii the suftVage rpicstiou should satisfy him that 



woman is not to be deprived of suffrage upon the 
grounds of mental inferiority to man, if the question 
is to be settled by eomparison between your work and 
his own. I am Respectfully Yours, 

H. M. Blair, Senator. 

Your repl}^ to Senator Ingalls in the Jamestown 
Evening News, is a sharp blow. You have lowered 
the sails of the doughty Senator, and established the 
fact that woman is man's equal in a mental sense, as 
in all others. Senator Hoar. 

We publish an original poem of much merit, both 
as to thought and expression. It is from the , pen of 
Mina S. Seymour, formelh' of Salamahca. Notwith- 
standing a severe ph3'sical affliction, she retains her 
mental brilliancy and is achieving wide notoriety as a 
writer. Her reply to Senator Ingalls has brought her 
strong commendations from people of eminence in all 
parts of the countr}'. A. W. Fcrrin, Catt. Rep. 

I am pleased with your sharj) reply to Senator In- 
galls and Miss Fox will republish parts of it in a 
Washington paper. Susan B. Anthony. 



AUG. 8 1900 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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